


i want you so much (but i hate your guts)

by becauselarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Harry, Alpha Liam, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Beta Niall, Deception, Enemies to Lovers, Football | Soccer, Hate to Love, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Louis, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-22 21:05:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 83,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6094018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becauselarry/pseuds/becauselarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Louis gets accepted to play for the Manchester University Alpha-Beta Football Team. The only problem: Louis is actually an Omega. He is determined to make it big in the football world, though, and he can't do that bound to an Omega team. With the help of a faked doctor's certificate and some pretty strong suppressants he is ready to fight for his dream. </p><p>That Harry Styles (Alpha, second year and youngest football captain of the A-B team in ages) doesn't seem to like him complicates matters, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ONE

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! :)
> 
> So, I've been thinking about this fanfic idea for a while and finally found some time to write. Even if the plot has bugged me for months now this chapter still was surprisingly hard to get out. I gave it my best, though, so I really hope someone will like it. If anyone has any opinions, I would be very glad for a comment. 
> 
> I want to mention here that English is not my native language, so if there are some horrendous mistakes please let me now, okay? 
> 
> Also important: I like football as much as the next person, but I'm not a pro in any way and I don't know half of what there is to know about it, honestly. I'm sorry in advance for my fuck-ups, I mean no offence to any mentioned teams or players or the game itself. I tried my best and used Google and Wikipedia, but I'll never be a football expert. Please bear with me!
> 
> Title of the work is from _Landfill_ by Daugther.
> 
>    
> [Russian Translation](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4616966)
> 
> (Please leave me a comment here or contact me on my [tumblr](http://obviouslybecauselarry.tumblr.com) if you want to translate this story!) 
> 
>  
> 
> Since there isn't much else to say, enjoy!  
> Love, Julia x

Louis was early, for once in his life.

His steps were almost careful, as if he was entering some kind of holy sanctuary instead of the dimly lit and musty smelling locker rooms of the Manchester University Alpha-Beta Football Team. Although, to him, this certainly was some kind of sacred place. 

He never thought he’d actually end up here.

As the door fell shut behind him and he walked further into the room he realised he was the only one around. He used the opportunity and let his curious gaze wander — over high metal lockers and simple, sturdy wooden benches cramped into the rather narrow space, and across a doorway to his right that probably led to the showers. 

It wasn't surprising that he was alone, really, since there were nearly thirty minutes left until the first practice of the term would commence and he figured most of the boys would only turn up shortly beforehand. He, though, he wanted to savour this for longer than a few minutes. 

His heart was beating rapidly in his chest. This was so incredible! He was barely able to contain his excited smile as he took a seat on one of the benches near him, closing his eyes in the process.

This had been his fucking dream for years! A dream that had always been unreachable and still technically was. To be here now, to actually have a place on this phenomenal team — it was akin to a miracle.

And so what if he lied and faked his way in? He deserved this, he knew he did! And he wasn't going to accept being told otherwise just because he was born a fucking Omega. Yes, that might be his gender, his status, but it didn't define him. He refused to be content with a position and, most probably, the captain badge in an Omega team when he could do so much better, when he could do so much more, could go so much farther. He belonged into this team, he was good enough, he was fantastic, even. And it was the truth, too, because otherwise he’d never have been picked for the Manchester University A-B team in the first place and he _certainly_ wouldn't have been offered a scholarship along with it.

It had been tricky, of course. Louis had broken a handful of rules and probably even laws on his way here, but to him it would always be fucking worth it. He would fake the gender certificate of his GP again if it came down to it, god damn it!

It was irrelevant now, anyway, he thought with a grim smile settling on his lips. He was here, and he was here to stay.

+++

Louis had first touched a football when he was four years old, an overly active child almost always on the way to land himself in trouble even then. His stepdad had taken him to the backyard one late summer afternoon, probably in the hope of distracting him from destroying the living room, in the hope of tiring him out, and set a cheap, worn ball in front of his feet. Louis had kicked it, hard and straight, and that had been it, basically — Louis was a goner.

His dreams had always been big and he had never made a secret out of them. He wanted to go far and as the years went by he slowly, but surely developed into one of the most promising young players in his county, Yorkshire, and then, the whole north of England, too. There were other great players around, of course, but Louis had been a popular name as a forward in the junior leagues ever since he turned eleven.

Of course, everything just had been to good to be true. 

It was shortly after his fourteenth birthday, on a grey, rainy January morning, that he woke up feeling feverish and sweaty all over, with a sticky wetness between his legs that could really only be interpreted in one way. His world crumbled in a heap of ashes and smoke in a matter of seconds as he came to realise what exactly was happening to him. His mum had found him eventually, crying and sobbing into his pillows, and the only thing he remembered clearly of that day now was how he had told her he wanted to die. 

Him being an Omega destroyed everything, every plan he ever made, from one moment to the next, in the blink of an eye. He had been completely out of it, disgusted and disappointed with himself and the whole universe. He wanted to close his eyes and never open them again.

The thing is, as an Omega he could have easily continued playing football — there was nothing stopping him. He could have made it far career-wise, even. If he had succumbed and switched over the Omega league. And there was literally nothing Louis had ever wanted less.

It was stupid, really, that Omegas weren't allowed to play in the same teams as Alphas and Betas. The reasons were far-fetched and outdated, all along the lines of: Omegas were to small and weak to keep up, their smell was too provocative (to the Alphas especially), their heats would leave them indisposed for days (which was an invalid argument since Alphas had their ruts, too) — to just name a few. It was pure discrimination, in Louis’ eyes.

Louis could admit that he might have been happy playing in the Omega league and making his whole life about it. If only — if only anyone ever _cared_ about the freaking Omega league. Their games, interesting and captivating as they might be, weren't broadcasted on any main TV channels and barely anyone actually showed up to the stadiums to watch them live. There weren't any lengthy or in-depth discussions about strategies or team development, nobody was intrigued by amazing wins or devastating losses. There was nothing really, no passion for any of it. And Louis didn't plan for this, he didn't want it _this way._

Louis wanted to make a name for himself. He wanted to do what he loved and he wanted to be recognised for it, for his talent. It wasn't fucking fair that he had to be an Omega. He always had hoped he would turn out to be a Beta, since he knew he was too small and slender to actually be an Alpha, but still too fierce and headstrong to be typically Omega. Beta would have been fine, would have been perfect. He never understood the hype with all the soul-bonding and marking and knotting anyway. 

He hadn't ever wanted to be a submissive, he _wasn’t_ fucking submissive. He was independent and strong and clever and he was an amazing footballer and he wouldn't let that be taken away from him, full stop.

His mum, bless her soul, went to the closest pharmacy that day and bought the strongest suppressants she could find (they were incredibly expensive, too), along with one or two aids that were to help Louis along during his heat (they never talked about _that_ embarrassment again). 

After four agonising days that Louis had spent moaning and groaning and sobbing into his bedsheets, soaking in his own sweat and slick and cum, he took the longest shower of his life, washing his hair and every crevice of his body for a good two hours under the scalding hot stream. Afterwards, he looked at himself in the mirror with determination. 

“This won’t stop me. I won’t let it stop me!“ He said, to no one but his own reflection, his eyes steely and his mouth in a tight line, an earnest frown etched on his forehead. He picked up the bottle of suppressant pills from the side of the sink and, without blinking or thinking about any of the consequences all this could entail, took the first one. 

He had spent the entire rest of the day sniffing himself, sniffing the air, asking his family to sniff him, and only when he felt satisfied and secure in the knowledge that the suppressants actually did their job and concealed his gender properly, he exhaled a relieved breath and went to sleep, determined that in the morning he would pick up where he had left off before this unpleasant incident.

He hasn't ever, not even once, forgotten to take a pill since that day. He went to school the next day with a straight back, lying to his friends about how he had been at home sick with the cold. A few weeks later, when it hadn't been quite so obvious after his sudden “illness“, he claimed himself to be a Beta. 

And that had been that, really.

+++

Louis was startled from his thoughts when the door to the locker rooms fell shut with a dull thud. His head snapped up, his eyes instantly settling on the new person in the room. It took him only a second to realise who the boy was, because obviously he would recognise his new team captain, a second year by the name of Harry Styles.

“Didn’t think anyone would be here,“ Harry mumbled, face indifferent as he let his gaze wander over Louis’ form. He had chocolate brown curls that framed his sharp features, rosy red lips and bright green eyes. Louis swallowed, because the boy was actually rather handsome. “Are you lost?“ Harry added then.

Louis was taken aback at the brashness in his tone. “Um, no?“

“You are aware that these are the locker rooms of the Alpha-Beta team, yeah?“ Harry asked with a raised brow as he walked further into the room. He stopped in front of a locker not too far off from where Louis was sitting and let his Adidas bag slide to the floor carelessly. Then he turned around again, facing Louis with crossed arms.

“I know that, yes“ Louis replied, and he felt his heart rate picking up. Harry was actually a bit intimidating: he was incredible tall, he looked as if he wouldn't take any bullshit and he was an Alpha — that was clear as day from the way he held himself and moved around alone. And as much as Louis denied his true gender, an Alpha hovering over him still did things to his traitorous body. Made him feel inferior, for one. Made him want to be submissive, too. Louis hated it. “What are you implying?“ He asked therefore, his sassy self taking over, self-defence strong. 

“I’m implying that you don't belong here,“ Harry said lightly, as if not at all impressed with Louis show of bravery. He proceeded to strip of his shirt, then, his bare upper body suddenly on display. Louis couldn't help but stare at the tattoos that littered Harry’s arms and chest. Also, there was a freaking butterfly on this boys stomach. 

Louis turned away, gathering his wits in the process. So, Harry looked hot. Great! That didn't matter. “Sucks for you, then,“ he replied haughtily, “because since I am a new forward in this team, I have every right to be here.“

There was the rustling of clothes and Louis was quite sure that Harry had just stripped of his skinny jeans, about to change into his football shorts. He wasn't about to check if his assumptions were true.

“New forward in my team? For sure? Aren't you an Omega?“

Louis could feel his eyes widen upon hearing Harry’s words. Shit! That was impossible, he _couldn’t_ know. There was no way! Could Harry smell him? Did his fucking suppressants fail? Was his dream supposed to be over before it even really began? Damn no!

“What makes you say that? I’m a Beta!“ Louis protested as soon as he found his voice. He wanted to finish off with an incredulous laugh, to undermine how ridiculous Harry’s words were, but the idea that it would come out as nothing more than a scratchy, breathless sound held him back. That would only make him seem suspicious.

Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Harry move, until he suddenly stood in front of him. Louis had no other chance but to look up at him. “Your size, mainly. You look dainty. And you have the face of an Omega, pretty and delicate,“ Harry shrugged. 

Louis’ glared. “Gee, thanks! Also, knock yourself out with stereotyping people. Appreciate it, mate.“ If he sounded bitter, Louis figured he did a good job. Feigning offence was always a good way to get people to back off.

Harry had a furrow between his brows and his lips were pressed together. Louis wanted him to go away. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you,“ Harry apologised eventually and although it sounded a little stilted, Louis was happy that they were dropping the topic now, apparently. “What’s your name then, forward?“

“Louis Tomlinson,“ Louis answered, exhaling lowly when Harry finally moved away from in front of him to get his football shoes on. 

“ _You_ are Tomlinson?“ Louis didn't like the tone of surprise in Harry’s voice.

“Is that a problem?“ He asked, cooly.

Harry chuckled, but it didn't sound sincere. “Of course not. Just heard a lot of impressive stuff about you, so I hope you won’t disappoint me. Not every member of this team gets a full ride scholarship, you know.“

Before Louis could reply, Harry wiggled his fingers in an exaggerated wave and jogged away, through a door that most likely lead to the pitch. He left in a flurry of curls and cologne and Louis remained, stunned. 

What the hell had just happened? 

It took a moment for his heart to find back to his normal rhythm. This was a close call, honestly. Louis could have given himself away any minute during this talk, with just one wrong word or a badly timed flinch. Anything, really. 

Maybe he should keep his distance from Harry, because the boy obviously wasn’t stupid. Louis had managed to fool scouts, coaches, teachers and teammates for years now, though, and he sure as hell wouldn't let Harry Styles destroy his hard work, just because the boy thought his face was to … pretty, or whatever. There was also something about Harry that rubbed Louis in the wrong way. He had seemed annoyingly self-confident and forward, but Louis wasn't about to let himself be bullied by a boy just a year older than himself.

Distance sounded like the way to go. It would make it easier to cope with Harry’s fucking smell, too. God, that smell! Louis hadn't smelled anything like him before; clean, strong and manly, extraordinary but familiar and homey all at the same time. He wanted to bath in that smell, he wanted that smell all over himself, clinging to his skin and sticking to his bed covers.

Wow. Fuck. Was he about to loose his mind? 

So Harry smelled good. Many Alphas did. No reason to pop a stiffy, Jesus. 

Louis let his head sink into his open palms and groaned. This was not the start he had envisioned for himself. Here was to hoping that the rest of the team wouldn't interrogate him the way Harry just did, really. He should probably square up and be the Beta he was pretending to be.

With a shake of his head he straightened up and looked around again. There were a few open lockers, probably those of the players that had graduated the university the year before and which were now free for the new team members to use. Louis chose one as far as possible from Harry’s and placed his bag before it. He made quick work of changing into his training clothes and lacing up his shoes tightly, and was ready just as the next boy entered the room.

“Hi mate,“ the blond boy said, taking a seat on the bench next to Louis and sticking out his hand. 

Since he had read up on the Manchester A-B Team and followed their games and line-up closely for the last year and he didn't recognise the boy, Louis figured the guy was probably a new addition, just like he himself was.

“Hey,“ Louis nodded in greeting and took his hand to shake it. “I’m Louis.“

“Niall Horan, good to meet you!“ A sunny smile settled on his lips as he introduced himself to Louis, before he got up again and unceremoniously stripped off his shirt to shuffle into his football gear. “You new this year?“

“Yeah, actually. You?“

“Me too, yes,“ Niall confirmed what Louis already suspected. 

Louis smiled, sort of relieved. “I’m glad I met another newbie before practice. Don't want to face all those judge-y returnees on me own, honestly,“ he said, and felt a blush spring to his cheeks a second later. Why the hell did he say that? He sounded like a baby. God!

But Niall only turned to him with wide eyes, nodding vehemently. “I know what you mean, man. Those uni footballers really are something else. Hard to believe I’m supposed to be one of them now.“

Louis bit his lip, thinking back to his encounter with their captain. Harry really was _something else_ , there was no denying that. He said, “We can figure it out together, hopefully.“ 

Niall grinned and began gathering his discarded clothes and shoes together. He stuffed them into the locker next to Louis’. 

“You want to get out there? Maybe we can leave a good first impression on the coach when we arrive extra early?“ Niall suggested, and it sounded like an all right plan to Louis.

“Let’s do this.“ 

Niall ran a hand through his hair and visibly psyched himself up. Louis felt connected to him already, so he held his hand up for a high five. Niall slapped in right away. 

+++

Coach Collins has been with the Manchester University A-B Football Team for quite some years and Louis was well aware that the man had a reputation. He wanted to see his team achieve greatness and there was certainly a reason why Manchester was always at the top of the list in the University Football Championship. Collins pushed each and every player to their limits, not forgoing punishments, everything from additional laps to banning players from games, if he wasn't satisfied with their performances. 

Louis knew that being chosen by this man was a huge compliment towards his football skills but also a huge commitment. There was no time to slack off, but Louis didn't plan on it anyway. He wanted to succeed just as much as Coach Collins wanted them to succeed, simple as that. 

When he followed Niall out onto the pitch, Louis didn't spot the Coach right away, not that he was actively searching him out. His gaze was held captive by the huge stadium they just entered. Louis had barely ever gotten to play in such venues before, only for the actual final games of some Teen League Championships, not that his old teams very often managed to get to the finals. And now he was here and he got to train on these grounds every weekday, for most of the year. How freaking amazing was that!

“Hey, Lou, I think that’s Harry Styles over there with the Coach, innit?“ Niall’s joyous voice pulled him from his thoughts. Louis turned to look in the direction that Niall was pointing out. It was in fact Harry, having a grand old laugh with Coach Collins. Louis swallowed. So long as Harry wouldn’t make a mention about the boy he met in the locker rooms that seemed so “omega“ to him Louis should be good. And for whichever reason would Harry bring that up? There was none. Which meant there was no need to worry. Or so Louis told himself.

“Yeah, I met him briefly in the locker rooms,“ Louis said absentmindedly. He had a hard time ripping his eyes from Harry’s lean form. That just wouldn't do, really. He needed to get over this asap. 

“Oh, you didn't mention that. What was he like?“ Niall asked interestedly.

Louis shrugged. “Acted like a proper annoying Alpha,“ he answered truthfully, before abruptly biting his tongue and chancing a nervous look at Niall. Maybe he shouldn't be quite so blunt. He was trying to make friends, after all. What if Niall himself was an Alpha? Even if he really didn't smell like one Louis knew best that you shouldn't judge people too quickly.

Niall only cackled loudly, though, once again surprising Louis. “Was expecting something like that. In all the interviews I watched of him he seemed like a proper control freak, aloof and all too happy with being in charge of this team. He is an amazing player, no doubt, but I don't plan on letting him push me around just because he is an Alpha. We Betas should stick together.“

“We should indeed,“ Louis agreed, totally on board with Niall’s words and glad that the boy didn't question his gender like Harry had and just accepted the obvious — that Louis wouldn't be here if he was anything other than Alpha or Beta. “Let’s do some stretching, I feel weird just standing around here and staring at the Coach and Styles.“

They got to work, slowly warming up their muscles and getting their circulation going. They spent the time in between exercises talking about their backgrounds. Louis found out that Niall was originally from Ireland but that he had lived in Birmingham for most of his life. Like Louis himself he got offered a scholarship that made him ultimately decide to join Manchester University and their A-B Team. 

Louis thanked the gods that Niall was the first boy after Harry to enter the locker rooms, because he felt it in his blood that the two of them would get along splendidly. That they already made plans to meet up for drinks at the end of the week only solidified this impression.

When the rest of the team trickled onto the pitch five minutes later Louis felt confident and positively excited to get started, not least of all because he was sure he made a new friend already. 

+++

A practice with a renowned university team couldn't be in any way compared to a practice with his old school’s team Louis realised two hours later, almost crying out in joy as the Coach finally blew his whistle to end their last round of squats. “Gather ‘round boys!“ The man yelled across the pitch, and Louis hauled his exhausted body over to him, following the slew of boys already on their way. As soon as he was close enough, he stopped and leaned forward, pressing his hands to his sides, desperate to catch his breath for a minute. His hair was sweat damp, his jersey clinging to his back and he felt utterly disgusting.

Louis knew that this was a strategy, because normally there was no use for this kind of extra hard training. It only resulted in a group of spiritless, limp young guys. They hadn't even touched a ball today, only done about a million fitness exercises. Louis knew the purpose of it all too well — it was the easiest and cleverest way for Coach Collins to get a feeling for the newbies, see who was really in it with all their heart and soul and mentally filtering out those who lacked the passion. Louis’ old Coach at school did similar practice sessions at the beginning of each new year. Louis had always hated it. 

“Well, boys,“ Collins started off, clapping his hands together to secure their attention. He looked younger in person than he did on TV or in grainy Youtube videos Louis had noticed as soon as he had gotten close enough to him to actually make out his face at the beginning of practice. He had short, dark hair and stubble lining his jaw, also a very long nose. His most prominent feature were his steely eyes, though, serious, calm and collected. “Surprisingly, I’m not as disappointed in our new choices as I thought I’d be. Still, not all of you first years are going to get a position in the starting eleven, so if this is what you were expecting, I highly recommend you keep your feet on the ground. Some of you will be lucky to even get the chance to play half a game this season. Work hard and impress me, and your on. If you don’t, you can watch from the side until you graduate.“ He paused shortly to let his words sink in. Then he cleared his throat. “Same goes to everyone who’s been here before. If you suck, you’ll loose your position faster than you can formulate a protest. I hope that is understood. Okay, so far so good. You boys go shower and change, while I’ll go over some things with your Captain here, all right? See you tomorrow.“ And with that, he abruptly turned and walked off the pitch and to the trainer bench at the side of the field. 

Harry gave everyone around a crooked grin, before jogging after the Coach, the red-and-white captain badge secured to his upper arm, curls up in a bun and looking not the least bit tired after the kind of practice they just had to survive. 

Louis felt like dying. Not only was he completely exhausted, he also had to fight for a fucking chance to play a game, apparently. Fucking hell, he actually didn't ever contemplate the idea that he might not be out on the pitch scoring goals in every single game. He thought with his scholarship and all it was implied that he was promised a starting position. Good to know that for that to happen he had to fight and beat two dozen other boys. Fantastic!

As the team shuffled off towards the locker room, Louis noticed that Niall didn't look as thrilled as he did at the beginning of training, either. The news about the inner-team competition seemed to have caught him off guard, too. Well, at least Louis wasn't the only one frustrated about this.

They didn't talk, or at least Louis and Niall didn't talk. Most of the other boys were all too happy discussing the upcoming season, taking guesses on who would play the first games and generally turning Louis’ mood sour with all their speculation. Surely, Coach Collins wouldn't only choose the guys from the higher years, as most of the returnees were suggesting. Because then all the newcomers literally wouldn't even need to bother. 

As the guys trickled off into the adjoining shower room, Louis and Niall were some of the only ones left in the main locker room, which was filled with the stink of sweat, mud, grass and Alpha. Louis wrinkled his nose as he pushed off his shoes. 

“You don't think Coach will only choose from the older lads, do you?“ Niall asked him, probably feeling safer now that they were almost alone and nobody from the higher up years could mock them for their self-doubts.

“That wouldn't make any fucking sense. We just — we have to give our best tomorrow, Niall. We’ll get our positions. I didn't train for this my whole life long just to sit out on the bench now,“ Louis said, voice rough. He also suddenly remembered Harry’s words from before, how he had heard “impressive stuff“ about Louis — so he had a good reputation as a player. He would get his shot, then, wouldn't he? And Niall, too. 

Niall nodded along to his words, seeming no less determined than Louis. “Everything will turn out fine,“ he agreed, even if his eyes were layered with uncertainty.

“Exactly. Let’s hit the showers, I feel nasty.“ Louis got up, stripped off his shirt and shorts and tried to blink away the embarrassment of being naked in front of an entirely new set of boys for the first time. He wasn’t shy about his body, mostly liked it, even. It was just that he was also aware that his entire physique was rather omega-y (as much as he loathed to admit it), and it was always daunting, the prospect that someone could make an offhand comment about his dainty hands, thick thighs or round, firm butt which would then lead to suspicion. 

No one batted an eye at him, though, as he stepped into the shower room after Niall, and he exhaled a silent sigh of relief as he chose an empty spot and let the hot water run over his body, soothing his sore muscles and washing away the grime.

+++ 

The thing with snatching a place on a team like the Manchester University’s Alpha-Beta one was that the players actually had a shot at making it really big. The University Football Championships alone were always pretty well received and attracted lots of spectators. The teams had their own solid fan bases and the Championship Committee even owned a TV channel that broadcasted the games nationwide. That alone was more than the professional Omega League could ever wish for, honestly, and it was sad to think about. 

But apart from being a popular player during uni time, there was also always the possibility of getting picked out by a scout after a game and landing a tryout for a real team. A real, world class, famous football team which was cheered on by ten-thousands in a stadium and watched by millions around the world on TV screens, such as Manchester United itself was one. Scouts of grand clubs like Liverpool, Chelsea or Arsenal were attending games regularly, and even international top teams like Real Madrid or Bayern München would occasionally sent people over to check out the players. 

For Louis this was the ultimate dream. But he wasn't delusional. He was more than lucky with what he got already and that he hadn't been found out yet. And although playing for a top team like ManU would be an opportunity he wouldn’t ever pass up on, it was unlikely that he would ever get so far. That didn't stop him from working hard for it, though, giving it his all. He hasn't denied his true gender for the last four years of his life to give up now.

Even if most uni players didn't get scouted for the premier league teams they could still always land a spot in one of the second or third level teams: they were a safe deal, payed well enough and still made you popular in the British football world. But that wasn't where Louis wanted to be, what he fought and took all these risks for. 

He wanted all or nothing. If there wasn't a position for him in a premier league team, he would end his football career after university, so much had always been clear to him. He just wasn't a person for being second-best, second-choice, second-class. 

It was all or nothing. 

+++

Funnily enough, Louis ended up being the last to remain in the locker rooms after showering. Niall had run of a few minutes ago, claiming he needed to grab some food before his evening lecture, and everyone else had left since. 

Louis wasn't normally one to take so much time getting changed and ready after practice. Usually he wanted to get done as fast as possible so he could get to all the other stuff he needed to do. Today, he was stalling a bit, because although his first year of uni had only just begun a week ago, he already felt slightly overwhelmed with how much work all this was going to be. He always imagined his main focus to be on playing football, but he realised that, actually, he was a student and therefore his priorities should just as much be on his studies. Because if football didn't turn out to be the one thing he earned his money with, then his degree would be the thing to support him. 

“What are you still doing here?“ The voice that roused Louis from his thoughts wasn't one he had heard often, but even after only a day it was familiar to him. He raised his head and settled his gaze on Harry who stood in the doorway leading in from the pitch, arms crossed in front of his chest and sweaty football gear still on his body. He must’ve just come in from his talk with Collins.

“Don’t think that’s any of your business,“ Louis replied, snappily, getting up from the bench he had been sitting on and snatching his bag from the ground. Something about Harry made him irrational and he loathed it. He wanted to be in control; in control of the situation and of himself.

Harry snorted, unamused. “I’m the captain of this team, Tomlinson. Everything going on here concerns me. Now go.“ And with that, he walked off to the showers, shedding his clothes on the way and dropping them to the ground as if he owned the place. Louis was repulsed — by his behaviour, not the sight that he offered. He turned away as soon as the thought crossed his mind.

If he could predict one thing from his and Harry’s interactions today it was that they would have a fucking hard time getting along peacefully. The boy’s ego was so fucking inflated, it was unbelievable. Not to mention his stupid comments upon first meeting Louis.

But Louis also wasn't stupid. Harry was the team captain and he clearly had a great connection to Coach Collins, so it would only take a few well-placed words by him and Louis wouldn't ever get to play a game, much less an actual position in the starting eleven, he was sure of that. But damn it, he wasn't ready to let Harry Styles destroy his dreams.

As Louis stepped out of the door and into the sunny September afternoon he thought back to his previous plan of action: avoiding Harry so as to not loose his patience and land on his bad side. Should be doable. 

He was sure that thinking of Harry’s naked behind as he rode his bike back to campus meant nothing at all. 

+++


	2. TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guuuys! 
> 
> What happened? So many kudos and comments for the first chapter? I’m flabbergasted and so in awe, thank you so much! And I feel so pressured now, haha, I really hope this chapter won’t disappoint. I tried really hard. Please be honest with me, okay?
> 
> Julia x

Tuesday morning started for Louis with an English Lit lecture and a ton of worries. Although he enjoyed literature very much, especially the classics, he just knew that he would have a hard time keeping up in this class. With football practice scheduled for every weekday afternoon and games every other weekend he would have trouble with staying atop his readings, and the thought of relying on mainly internet summaries and Wikipedia for his uni exam (like he had done in school sometimes) made his stomach turn. He didn't want to fail, failing had never been an option for him.

Also, there was this Beta boy sitting a row before Louis, who continually threw him looks over his shoulder, eyes intense and smirk on point. It bugged Louis, stuff like this. He didn't want to be stared at, didn't want to be the object of anyone’s fancy. He made sure to leave the lecture hall quickly as soon as the professor ended his monologue, because he didn't want to be stuck with the boy, who really seemed to gear up to come talk to him, or even worse, ask him out. Those situations always ended awkwardly and Louis was all for avoiding them. Telling people he’s not interested in meeting them for coffee or lunch or a walk in the park just was embarrassing for everyone involved. 

He didn’t have time to spare anyway, since football practice started at one o’clock and he needed to grab a quick lunch if he didn't plan on passing out during laps. He knew that today, after yesterday’s fitness fiasco, they would actually get to touch a ball and Louis was determined to be at his very best. He wanted to play the game, he wanted to prove he was worthy of his scholarship and he wanted the chance to get seen by any potentially attending scouts at games. 

The dorm house was empty and silent when he returned, his flatmates all gone for their own uni courses or library dates, probably. Louis hadn't really bonded with any of the nine other people who were assigned the rooms on his floor. He met them all, of course, a variety of boys and girls, all Beta’s, because the uni wasn't okay with mixing genders, apparently. Louis was glad about that, because he neither wanted to room with Alpha’s nor Omega’s, the chance of outing himself so much higher around them. The Beta’s were okay, uncomplicated. All friendly and openminded, as far as he could tell, and they greeted him whenever he crossed their ways, which was nice. He maybe would have wished for one of them to be someone he could be friends with, but that didn't happen and, well, he couldn't force. And he had Niall now anyway. Probably would find someone else on the footie team, too. It wasn't a big deal. 

He rummaged through his shelf in the kitchen fridge and came up with nothing but a low-fat yoghurt with raspberry flavour and some old Chinese take-out that he took straight to the trash. He couldn't even remember when he put that in there … Saturday maybe? He would need to go shopping soon, he thought reluctantly as he went to his room and fell face first onto the bed, yoghurt and spoon in hand. He’d never imagined that living on his own would be such a hassle. That reminded him, he still hadn't figured out how the washing machine worked in this place. He hadn't needed to use it yet, since he had had enough clothes to suffice him for the first week and a half, but he was running lower and lower on underwear and his footie gear would need regular washings, too, now that training has started, because otherwise that would just end in a disgusting mess. 

Flopping over onto his back with a low groan, Louis fished for his laptop next to his bed, setting it up on his blanket so he could watch an episode of Grey’s Anatomy while he ate his meagre meal. Since he didn't have anyone to hang around with outside of his lectures and seminars he actually had caught up on quite a few series, which was good but also a bit depressing. God, he needed to get out and meet people, but that just wasn't his thing. He wasn't shy or insecure, exactly, but he wasn't as outgoing and forward as others either. It was difficult for him to make new friends. He had had quite a lot in school, but most of them he met before he presented as an Omega. After that, he developed difficulties with trusting people, just because this whole scaffold of lies was such a fickle thing, always on his mind, a part of him. 

But Niall, Niall was a nice lad; funny, talkative and odd in a charming way, taking football just as seriously as Louis did. He really hoped they would grow close. Niall seemed like just the person you needed in your life. 

+++

When the episode ended, Louis was almost running late. Practice would start in twenty minutes and he had to cycle to the stadium still, which would take him up to seven minutes. He left his laptop and empty yoghurt on the bed haphazardly and slipped his Vans on. He grabbed for his footie bag that hung on the door handle and crammed his jersey and shorts inside, which he had left airing out overnight. 

He locked the doors on his way down and got to his bike in a matter of minutes. He probably rode a little recklessly and was glad that the streets surrounding the university main building and the dorms weren't all that frequented by cars and not many other students on bikes were around. 

When he entered the locker room, most of the other boys were there already. Barely anyone noticed him coming in, apart from Niall, who waved happily and tapped an empty spot on the bench next to him. Louis smiled and headed in his direction, when he noticed out of the corner of his eyes another gaze following him. He turned his head slightly, instantly meeting Harry’s disapproving face. The boy was in his uniform already, his curls up in a bun and arms crossed in front of his chest. Louis swallowed and lowered his head, feeling chastised by a single look. He wasn't even late, there were still minutes left until the start of practice and he would be changed in a matter of seconds. Honestly, he felt like Harry had singled him out already, chosen him to be his punching bag for the term, and Louis was anything but okay with that.

Niall greeted him happily when Louis finally turned away from Harry and took his seat, immediately beginning to strip of his jeans and shirt. 

“How do you feel?“ Niall asked then, while lacing up is shoes.

Louis chuckled. “Sore, to be honest. I haven't done push-ups like we did yesterday in ages. Luckily I don't need my arms all that much to play good football.“

Niall opened his mouth to respond, probably ready to agree with Louis if his winces when he moved his shoulders were anything to go by, when another voice spoke up, effectively cutting him off. “You having problems keeping up already, Tomlinson? After one day?“ The taunting voice made Louis’ blood boil and a blush rise on his cheeks. He didn't bother to look at Harry, who was clearly hovering somewhere behind him and Niall if he had heard Louis’ words. Niall looked flabbergasted next to him, mouth ajar. 

“No, I don’t,“ Louis said evenly, internally fighting to hold his tongue. What had he done to deserve this kind of treatment? He didn't know Harry Styles for twenty-four hours yet, but the boy despised him already. 

“You better not. Otherwise, there are plenty of boys names on a waiting list in Collins office, all more than happy to take your place and scholarship if this is too hard for you,“ Harry said, and Louis didn't think he imagined the vicious note ringing along in his words. He certainly wasn't joking and it made Louis’ heart drop. 

“Don’t worry about it,“ he pressed out, his voice barely steady anymore, his hands balled to fists. 

There was shuffling behind him and after a moment Louis was sure that Harry had gone out on the pitch, along with a handful of boys, Louis and Niall almost alone in the room now. Niall turned his wide-eyes stare on Louis. “What the hell just happened?“ 

Louis gritted his teeth and refrained from answering. He probably would only snap at Niall and the boy didn't deserve that. He wouldn't know what to answer anyway. So he shrugged and got up to tuck up his shorts, then slipped on his shoes.

Niall patted his back in a supporting gesture and it actually made Louis breathe a little easier, the anger and tension slowly leaving his body. He smiled at the blonde boy, willing to forget the brief encounter as fast as possible. They made it to the field with two minutes to spare, but the Coach didn't utter a word so everything was good. Louis was down for this practice, fired up and ready to go. He would show everyone what a fucking good and valuable player he was and then Harry could choke on his own stupid comments.

+++

“All right lads, simmer down,“ Coach Collins said, clearly audible over the heads of the players. He was standing straight before them, brows furrowed, hands interlocked behind his back. “Today we’re going to do some team strengthening exercises, so you all can get to know each other a bit better. I want each newbie to get in a group with two returnees, which will result in seven groups. Styles will sit out on this and instead go join every group separately, since as your new captain I believe he should get a feel for each one of you. So, split up, chop chop!“ 

Louis sighed internally as he threw a miserable glance at Niall. He thought that if they’d do group exercises he could at least work with him, but alas. Niall smiled crookedly back at him, but Louis wasn't fooled — Niall looked just as apprehensive as Louis felt. 

“Tomlinson, come and join us.“ Louis flinched lightly as he heard his name and turned to see who had been speaking to him. It was a tall boy, strongly build and obviously Alpha. He had short brown hair, warm eyes and a welcoming smile. Louis recognised him as the teams first goalkeeper, but his blank mind couldn't remember the name. Beside the goalie stood a dark-skinned Beta boy, but Louis couldn't for the life of him allocate him.

He inwardly shook his head at himself and stepped closer to the two boys, a shy smile fighting its way onto his lips. “Hey, I’m Louis,“ he introduced himself, because after all this seemed to be the aim of the whole ordeal: meeting the other team members.

“Liam Payne,“ the Alpha player said, and suddenly Louis remembered. Of course, Liam Payne. Liam Payne who, coincidentally, was Harry’s best mate, if all the news footage he had watched before the dart of term was anything to go by. How fucking great! Louis wouldn't doubt that Harry especially set Liam up to pair up with Louis for the simple reason to fluster and upset him. 

Before Louis could get lost in his bitter thoughts, the other boy spoke up. “I’m Mick Jarman, centre-back.“

“Nice to meet you both,“ Louis said, the smile now vanished from his lips and his voice a bit strained. Neither of the two players seemed to take notice. 

“Let’s go over there and start with some stretching,“ Liam suggested, pointing to one edge of the field no other group had taken up yet. Louis simply followed him and Mick, eyes on the short green grass of the pitch. 

He really hoped that Harry wasn't actually out to get him. He didn't want to lose his spot on the team. He deserved to be here, he deserved this chance. Louis hadn't done anything wrong, so he couldn't understand why Harry was so adamant on making his life miserable. Louis couldn't handle this kind of pressure — he never had any problems with team mates before, and there was a reason: he was a nice guy, never actively searching fights or confrontation. He could get bitchy and mean, of course, and he would stand up for himself if it got necessary. But he never would without reason. Why was Harry doing this to him? 

“Louis?“ 

His gaze snapped up and settled on Mick, who was in the middle of warm ups, but seemed to have paused to address Louis.

“Sorry,“ Louis was quick to say, getting into position to stretch his legs and heels. “Spaced out for a second. Were you saying anything?“

Mick didn’t look overly bothered by Louis’ weirdness. “Just asking you to tell us a little about yourself.“

“Oh okay,“ Louis responded, at a loss of what to say to that. There was stuff to say, of course, but he didn't think Mick and Liam would be much interested in learning about his family life and childhood. He started there anyway. “Well, I was born in Doncaster and have lived there my whole life until now. I — I have five sisters and a brother, who are very important to me. Also, my mum, of course, she is the best. And Dan, I guess, my stepdad.“ Louis felt like an idiot, basically talking to strangers about how much he loved his family. What the hell was wrong with him? He cleared his throat and changed position to give his calves some attention, not meeting the boy’s eyes in the process. He really hoped Liam wouldn't pass on his words to Harry; it would only give the boy more ammunition to put Louis down. “Anyway, I’ve played football since I was four years old, been in several tournaments with my junior league team and won a title with my grammar school team.“ He shrugged, unsure on how to continue. 

“Six siblings sounds like a whole lot of trouble,“ Mick commented, and when Louis dared to look at him the boy had a friendly grin on his lips. All right, then. 

“Yeah, they are a rambunctious bunch, there barely every was a relaxing day at home. I miss that, though. Not that my dorm is a world of peace and quiet, but still, it’s different.“

Surprisingly it was Liam who said, “I know.“ Louis honestly thought the boy would just ignore him or maybe make a snide comment, like Harry certainly would have done. “I mean, I only have two sisters, but you still miss the screams about stolen skirts and broken hairbrushes, or whatever it always is with teenage girls.“

Louis actually chuckled at that. He could relate, because Lottie and Fizzy, his oldest younger sisters, certainly bickered about stuff like this at times. They fought over Lottie’s books and Fizzy’s art supplies just as often, though, and Louis wanted to add it in defence of his sisters, because they weren't all about make-up and clothes, but he didn't get around to it. 

There was a shadow falling over his shoulder and Louis just knew who was standing behind him.

“Lads,“ Harry said, and for once Louis noted that his voice could be soft and pleasant, too. What a nice change. “Still warming up? How about we start with a few ball exercises, huh? I’ll join you for a while.“

He rounded Louis to stand in between him and Liam and Mick, an insufferable smirk on his lips. Louis wanted to kick the football straight into his handsome face. Jesus!

“Okay, let’s go with some passes first, some juggling with the ball in between, maybe? So we can see a bit of Louis’ foot and leg work.“

Louis nodded. He was all right with that. He was good, he could do this, wether Harry was menacingly staring down at him or not. They formed an off-shaped square and Mick started, handling the ball confidently, playfully, and then kicking it to Louis, who caught it easily. He balanced the football on his right foot, before pushing it up to his knee, pumping it up and down a few times. As he let it fall he moved and, with his left foot, passed it over to Liam. Nobody said a word, not that Louis was expecting praise. He was just glad there were no dumb remarks. 

They kicked the ball around for a while and Louis couldn't help but admire Harry’s and Liam’s ball action. They both were absolutely fabulous players, which Louis found a bit hard to admit in Harry’s case, but there was no sense in denying it. They were in full control, calm and collected, and very sure. Mick was great as well, but Harry and Liam clearly played on a whole different level. Louis hoped with all his heart that he would soon belong to their class of expertise.

Harry eventually stopped their little game, picking the ball up as it was passed to him and throwing it from hand to hand lazily. “Good work,“ he stated, but his eyes were focused on Mick and Liam alone, as if Louis shouldn't feel included in the compliment. “Go on with some offence play, yeah?“ He threw the ball to Liam, winked at his friend, and walked away without another word.

Louis swallowed and lowered his gaze. So Harry hadn't mocked him this time, or made any harsh comments, but Louis still felt attacked. It was nice that Harry didn't trouble him, but that he entirely ignored him wasn't enjoyable either. He clearly knew what he was doing, what kind of effect his blatant disregard would have. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't Harry treat him like everyone else? Because he obviously was treating everyone else equally. Just now he had joined another group, with an Alpha newbie called Darren and two year three students, and they seemed to have a grand old time. So Harry didn't seem to have a problem with newcomers, but his problem also didn't lie with the gender of the players, because he had treated Mick equally as good as he had treated Liam. 

What did Louis do, then, to earn this kind of disregard and deprecation? 

He tried not to dwell on it and instead immersed himself in the offence strategies they were practicing now, following Harry’s orders and hopefully not giving the boy anymore reason to dislike him. Because he had a feeling that Harry was always watching and judging him, wether he was right beside him or straight across the pitch. It sucked, this constant surveillance. It was restraining. Louis didn't want to fail, but it appeared as if that was all Harry wanted to see him do. 

“Are you okay, Louis?“ Liam asked, getting the ball from between Louis’ feet for the third time in a row. Louis wanted to scream. He wanted to get out his concerns straight away, explain that he felt unfairly treated by their captain. It wouldn't help anything, though, just make things even worse. God damn it, it was only day two.

“Yeah, everything’s all right. Sorry. I need — I just, I’ll get my water bottle real quick. Be right back.“ Before Mick or Liam could respond to him, he was jogging across the field and towards the benches at the sideline where they were keeping their drinks. He didn't dare take a seat, too afraid of being called out for it by Harry. He wasn't all that exhausted anyway. Compared to their previous day of exercises, this one was almost boring. Louis hated group activities anyway. He had no problem doing some tactics training or drills, and he loved playing the actual game, but he hated what they were doing now. It was senseless and it didn't further his skills in any way, shape, or form. 

“Are you planning on getting back on the pitch or?“ 

Louis twisted around so fast he managed to spill some of the water of his open bottle over his jersey. Fantastic! Harry stood in front of him, bored expression in place.

“Of course. I just —“

Harry held his hand up and it was such a condescending gesture that Louis had to bite his lips for real this time. What’s your fucking problem with me, you asshole, is what would have come out otherwise, in a high pitched scream no less. 

“I don’t tolerate slackers on my team.“

Louis’ eyes turned into slits, the grip on his bottle growing impossible tighter. “I’m not a slacker,“ he said, voice shaking with suppressed rage. “I’m allowed to have a drink.“

“Not if it takes you five minutes. What, do you need a break already?“ 

“No, I don’t.“ Louis answered, exasperatedly, taking a last swig of water and screwing the cap on again.

Harry glowered at him. “Tomlinson, we’re going to have a real problem if you continue behaving this way.“

“I’m not even _doing_ anything.“ Louis almost yelled, eyes wide and disbelieving. This had got to be a joke. Was he the newbie that had been picked out beforehand to get tortured for the first half of term as a general amusement for the team? Because this certainly did feel unreal. There were a lot more words begging to be said, but Louis contained himself. His anger must be visible on his face, there was no way it wasn't.

Harry didn't seem fazed in the least, though. He spoke as earnest and cold as ever. “Get back on the pitch. Now!“ An obvious order, but no word to defend himself or his actions. It was like he didn't even listen to Louis. 

Fuming with fury, Louis threw his bottle to the ground and stomped away. He wanted to break something.

+++

“What is the deal with you and Styles?“ Niall asked when they exited the locker rooms an hour later, after refreshing showers and time to cool down. Louis could easily tell that the question had been burning on Niall’s tongue for ages. “Like, the whole team noticed your little spat on the sideline earlier.“

That was just what Louis needed, honestly. The footie team catching up on Harry’s dislike for him. There was no way he could come out as a winner in such a situation.

“He hates me and I don't know why. I haven't done _anything_ wrong. Hell, I just met him yesterday,“ Louis said, grateful to finally get it out there, his words heated, but helpless all the same. 

Niall looked at him with pity clear in his eyes. “Who knows what kind of problem he has with you. I’m sure he’ll come around, though.“

Louis did too, but his hopes weren't actually all that high up. “That would be nice,“ he sighed, letting the topic go. 

+++

The rest of the week’s practices didn't commence any differently. Louis gave his best, trained hard and even impressed Coach Collins with an especially risky goal shot, but Harry was on his case all the time. He showed up in the most coincidental moments and took everything Louis did or said as a sign of disobedience, defiance or weakness. He always found just the right words to put Louis down when he had just begun to feel confident and good again. It was pure torture. 

The other team members slowly but surely picked up their apparent dislike for each other as well, which brought along a bit of sympathy for Louis, but also made everyone stare him down all the more, since there had to be something special, precarious or weird about him if Harry gave him so much shit, hadn't there? Louis didn't like being the centre of attention, even less so if it wasn't for his talent but things he had no control over. The probability of his secret getting out was so much higher with people paying close attention to his behaviour and demeanour. 

When Friday’s session finally ended Louis was close to tears, which, that was a new thing. Harry had been criticising him for the better part of the last hour, because Louis had missed a good opportunity to score in this day’s practice game. Nobody else was getting so much heat for one simple mistake in a game that didn't even matter or count for anything. Louis wasn't the only one by far who ever missed an easy goal and really, he was berating himself enough for it as it was. That Harry had to persistently bully Louis for it, too, made everything even worse. At the end of the game, he barely tried to take the ball of the opponent players anymore, only counted the seconds until Collins would blow his whistle and dismiss them for the weekend so he could get away from the team captain.

Louis had never wished for a game to be over ever before and the realisation made his head hurt. He fucking loved footie and he wouldn't let Harry take it from him. He couldn’t. 

It just wasn't _fair._

“We should get proper drunk tonight,“ Niall exclaimed as they exited the shower room covered up in their towels, a cloud of soapy-smelling steam escaping with them. “Toast to surviving the first week.“ 

Louis only managed a shallow nod. He was on board with getting drunk, but with his luck, uttering it out loud would only land him in more trouble with Harry, who surely was lurking around somewhere, just waiting for the opportunity to snap at him. God know’s what kind of stupid arguments the boy would come up with to make Louis feel guilty about having a drink on a Friday evening. 

Niall smiled brightly, already getting on his jeans. “I have to hurry, I’m meeting Phil for a late lunch. But see you later, all right, Lou? Eight o’clock, The Kings Arms, yeah?“

“I’ll be there,“ Louis promised, a thin-lipped smile directed Niall’s way. It was hard too stay moody and sour when Niall was such a sunshiny person, always around making boring jokes and half-finished plans, so intent on cheering people up and having a good time. He was so happy he met Niall. It was almost hard to believe they've only known each other for a week. 

Louis tried to get ready as quick as possible after Niall left. There were other players still around, but Louis was just too afraid to end up alone with Harry due to some misfortunate chain of events. Avoidance was still the way to go, he knew that, but it was a bit difficult with Harry always breathing down his neck. 

He hopped up and down in front of his locker, making a complete fool out of himself in the process, because his fucking tight jeans were a disaster to get into. They were clinging to his still slightly wet legs and he was pissed. Usually, he would never wear this kind of jeans to practice, since this way prone to happen. But he still hadn't done his laundry and, well, honestly, this was his last clean pair of pants, so he hadn't really had a choice. Tomorrow he would finally figure out how the dorm’s washing machine worked, that’s for sure.

“Do you need help, Tomlinson?“ 

Louis gaze snapped up to a Beta player who had suddenly appeared next to him, meeting crinkly blue eyes in a sharp face. Louis was 80% sure the name was Matt Corry. 

“I’m okay,“ Louis huffed out, finally getting the jeans up to his waist, buttoning it straight away. His cheeks felt red and hot, which was annoying, because it was such an Omega thing to happen. Alphas didn't blush, and Betas rarely did, but in Omegas it was an appreciated attribute.

“All right,“ Matt the Beta said. He ruffled his dark blond hair nonchalantly and Louis followed the movements, a bit transfixed. “That’s not why I came over here anyway.“

Louis raised a single eyebrow, growing suspicious. Suspicious was his thing. “So what is it then?“

“Saturday is our annual footie party to celebrate the start of term,“ Matt explained. “Of course, you're invited to come. I’m just making the rounds now to let the newbies know, but I missed your friend, Horan. Maybe you could let him know, yeah?“

This was not what Louis had been expecting, but it was nice news. A party with the team sounded like fun and gave him a chance to get to know some of the boys better outside of practice, as well. “Cool! I’ll tell Niall tonight,“ Louis nodded, smile wide and bright. 

Matt grinned. “Great. The party starts at nine at my parents place in town. Give me your number and I’ll text you how to get there?“ 

Louis didn't hesitate to rattle off his mobile number, which Matt was typing into his phone with fast fingers. “Thanks, Tommo. See you tomorrow.“ He waved and walked away, back over to his own locker. Louis stared after him for a second, before catching himself and turning back to getting changed. He threw on his shirt and jacket, stuffed his sweaty, stinky football gear in his bag and hurried to get out of the locker room. 

He was excited, he realised as he walked over to his bike. The football party would be his first university party and that was something special, wasn't it? His first party with people who were actually allowed to drink. There was a nervous fluttery tingling in his guts as he began his ride back to his dorm house. A party with good music, dirty dancing, colourful shots, people making out on the dance floor, and every other movie cliché involved — yes please! He sure was in high spirits upon the idea of finally making those experiences for himself. Not that he was interested in kissing intoxicated strangers, because that wasn't his thing at all. But meeting new people, potential friends, and dancing with alcohol streaming through his blood seemed like a pretty nice prospect and a good end to a terrible first week of practice.

+++


	3. THREE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for the amazing response to the last chapter, you guys make me so happy, I swear! For your information, there is beerpong involved in this chapter, and I’ve never played that, so I’m sorry in advance if anything about it doesn't make sense, haha. Hope you like it anyway!
> 
> Julia x

Louis awoke on Saturday morning with a racing heart and a heavy sigh. It was while he was still blinking his eyes open, lazily thinking about the day ahead and the stuff he had to get done, that he realised attending a football team party meant that he would have to face Harry. That probably should have been obvious to him from the very start, shouldn't it, what with Harry being the team captain and all. Funnily enough, it hadn't come to his mind before, but it was so thoroughly hitting him now that he groaned out aloud, just as if the weight of the world had just settled atop his shoulders.

He really hadn't planned on seeing Harry this weekend, grateful to get two days of quiet to himself to rebuild his self-esteem. But alas! It was unbelievable. 

Although he was feeling energised and refreshed from a good nights sleep, he still had trouble getting out of bed. Niall had decided, upon hearing the news of the party invitation, that they would get drunk on Saturday instead of Friday, so they had spent the previous evening at _The Kings Arms_ with a pint each, both refraining from ordering shots or fancy long-drinks. It was still nice, of course. They got to really talk, had a good few laughs and hyped each other up about the first uni party they would attend together. 

Now, the distressing thought that he would see Harry again this evening already was enough to chain Louis to his bed. Maybe he should text Niall, find some bullshit excuse and make his dodging out up to him sometime next week. Louis scrunched up his nose in distaste just thinking about it. No, he couldn't do that; wouldn’t do that. He wouldn't, because that was his chance to get to know the other members of the team better, to meet new people, to forge new friendships. He needed this. He was part of the team — he deserved to be there just as much as everyone else and he wouldn't let Harry spoil his fun, god damn it! Harry wasn't the centre of the universe and Louis really should begin to fucking remember that.

He gave himself a silent pep talk, something he wouldn't admit to anyone, and pushed the covers away to start his day with a hot shower. It was a joggers kind of morning, since he would spent it solely catching up on all his living-alone-duties. First laundry and room cleaning, then a quick trip to the store and a bit of course work in the afternoon. This evening’s party really was something to look forward to after all, like a kind of reward for being a good, diligent adult. Louis would make the most of it, starting with banning every thought of Harry strictly from his mind. 

+++

Turns out the washing machines in the dorm house weren't all that hard to operate. The only thing he did wonder was where all his dirty clothes even came from. Had he really worn so much shit in two short weeks? 

He headed out to the shops while the machine was running and loaded up his cart with too much junk food, missing out entirely on fresh vegetables. It was weird how, stereotypically, Omegas were the homemakers, the ones who cooked and baked and washed and cared for the kids, but here Louis was, being the biggest disappointment to his entire gender, unable to even properly cook a spaghetti sauce that afforded more work than emptying a jar in a pot and heating it up. He was pretty sure nature fucked up while creating him, honestly. So much about him just didn't fit. He had been supposed to become a Beta, that much was clear to him, but something went wrong and now here he was, scraping up every spare bit of money to afford his stupidly expensive extra-strong-and-concealing suppressants, just because someone in the universe had failed to do their job right. Yeay for nature!

His dorm was actually quickly cleaned, because it turned out that cramped living space resulted in less space to hoover, mop and dust off. There was a perk to this after all, then. 

It also resulted in him having more time at his hands and procrastinating course work, because _there still was time._ But instead of watching only one episode of Grey’s Anatomy, like he originally planned to, he ended up watching three, which lead to more than two bygone hours. He could have read a good part of _Sense and Sensibility_ in that time for his English Lit lecture on Tuesday and for a moment he felt alternatively like crying or hitting his head against the closest wall. Lastly, he just decided to figure out a topic for his History term paper and read up on the French Revolution, since that was the topic of his Wednesday morning seminar. 

At six o’clock he at least had achieved something, and even if he was lacking behind in his English courses now, he was up to date with his History stuff. Leaning back in his desk chair, Louis contemplated just falling into bed and sleeping the rest of his Saturday away. He felt exhausted instead of exhilarated when he thought about the impending party now. But it wasn't an option — he would go, he would have fun, he would get drunk, he would make it the best first university party anyone could ever have. Damn! 

He had always been careful with his outfits for occasions like parties or events, so he thought it best if he got to work right away and found himself something nice to wear. Niall would pick him up a quarter before nine, so they could walk to the tube station together and make their way across town to Matt’s parents house. 

Therefore, it was time to get himself in form. 

+++

They arrived a whole lot later than they had planned to. Problem was that they got lost on the tube and drove in the wrong direction for about ten minutes. After they finally realised their mistake they had to find their way back to where they had started from to begin their journey anew. Louis figured they couldn't be blamed for getting confused, after all neither him nor Niall had lived more than a few weeks in Manchester and they hadn't had much practice in using the tube yet. 

And anyway, it was a party, so it really didn't matter when they turned up. At least they managed to find their way at all. 

The house they entered was fucking massive, in Louis’ humble opinion. The rooms were spacious, with high ceilings, pretty wallpapers, leather couches and expensive art adorning various places. Looked like Matt’s family was actually loaded, which is probably why they didn’t mind dozens upon dozens of university students and athletes trashing their interior. How nice that must be, to not care about money at all. Louis likely would never know. 

Niall had a bright grin on his face and excitement was radiating off of him as he took Louis by the wrist to stir him through the crowds. He seemed at ease, right at home in this kind of environment. There was nothing of the insecurity he sometimes displayed on the football pitch. Well, Louis was glad at least one of them was confident enough to just go for it. If Louis had come alone, he probably would've turned around on the doorstep and fled. He really wasn't the most forward person, despite his position on the field, and large groups of people usually scared him off, not least of all because of his well-kept secret.

“Let’s find the kitchen, I need a drink,“ Niall exclaimed, his voice raised so Louis could hear him over the pounding music that was resounding throughout the house. When their eyes met, Louis nodded in approval. He was all for drinks.

They simply followed the throng of people with empty cups, certain that they were about to make their way to the kitchen to get a refill. Of course, once in the modernly furnished and equipped room, they had to wait around for a large group of girls in crop tops and mini skirts to mix something up that involved lots of vodka and clear out before they actually got some space at a counter. Bottles of the most varied alcohol Louis had ever seen in one place were spread out in front of him and honestly, he had no idea what to do with them. Usually he was a beer kind of guy, maybe some shots of Tequila in between. He had no idea about mixing drinks.

“This is amazing,“ Niall said next to him, though. His eyes were wide and glimmering with joy, his hands already reaching for a handful of differently coloured bottles. “I’m gonna make you a Horan-Special, Lou. Just wait and see, it’ll blow your mind.“

Louis chuckled, amused by Niall’s evident delight at the assortment of booze available to them. “Knock yourself out, Nialler. I’ll drink whatever you hand me, but try not to land me in a coma.“ He wasn't even sure if Niall took notice of his words, already too absorbed in his process of pouring generous amounts of brown, heavy-smelling liquid into two cups. 

Louis just knew that this would end with one of the worst of hangovers for him.

+++

With brimming cups in hands they eventually made their way back into the living room that didn't exactly look like a living room, but was the place where the main party was taking place. Louis could make out a DJ positioned near the back wall. Furniture was pushed to the walls, sofas and armchairs and coffee tables, and there was so much trash littered around already that Louis was just glad this wasn't his house to clean. Most people in the room were dancing animatedly, some grinding almost obscenely, others making out heavily, but just as many enjoying their time with friends, goofing around leisurely. It looked like loads of fun.

“Well, cheers, Lou. To a good night!“ Niall held up his drink, grinning with red cheeks. 

“Cheers, Niall!“ 

Niall’s concoction turned out to be rather tasty. It was sweet and juicy, which was astonishing because Louis had seen how much heavy liquor had gone into those cups. He probably should be careful if he didn't want to end up out of his mind drunk and vomiting in front of his new team mates and half of the university’s students. 

Speaking of new team, Louis recognised Mick and two other Beta footie lads walking towards them. He took another sip, hoping the alcohol would loosen him up a little so that he could finally be his witty and funny self and make a good impression on them.

“Hey boys, cool of you to come,“ Mick greeted them, extending his hand for fist bumps, which was apparently still a thing people did. Louis had never really understood it. 

“Of course,“ Niall beamed.

The pale, ginger-haired player next to Mick spoke up. As far as Louis could remember his name was Adam Skewer. “We’re gonna play a round of beerpong downstairs, just the team. Want to join in?“

Louis opened his mouth, ready to agree, but Niall beat him to it, nodding like an overeager puppy. “For sure, yes, let’s go!“ He grabbed Louis’ wrist again, like he did when they were making their way to the kitchen, but this time they followed Mick, Adam and the boy Louis just couldn't remember the name of out of the room and to a staircase leading downwards. 

They ended up in what Louis would plainly describe as a party cellar, but much more high-tech, modern and fancy than anything Louis had ever encountered. There were way less people down here, and after letting his eyes roam for a while he noticed it really were only team members.

“Hey Niall, Louis,“ someone shouted from across the room and when Louis looked up he realised it was Liam waving at them, a warm expression on his face. A little unsurely, Louis waved back. He very carefully didn't let his eyes flick to the curly haired boy beside Liam. 

“All right, lads. Now that we’re complete the games can begin,“ Matt announced grandly, flipping Louis and Niall a peace-sign. He was positioned near a beerpong-table, because of course Matt’s family had one of those, busy setting up cups and filling them with Corona. Well, at least they started easy. He took another sip from the mix-drink Niall had made him, a little shocked upon discovering that he had already emptied half of it. He really should have an eye on this, because his alcohol tolerance level as an Omega was way lower than that of an Alpha or Beta. The last thing he needed was to out himself on a stupid party just because he couldn't control himself, honestly. 

Louis formed a team with Niall, because obviously. They didn't get to play for quite a while, though, since with twenty-two players around it took some time to go through everyone. When it was eventually their turn, Louis’ cup was empty and he felt warm and fuzzy. He had been joking around with Mick, Adam and Terence, who was an Alpha midfield player with striking grey eyes, and slowly, but surely a sense of belonging overcame him, like he finally began to settle into his new team. 

“Tomlinson, Horan, you’re up!“ Louis didn't bother to check who called them, just gave the lads a crooked smile and headed towards the table, where he met up with Niall, who seemed to have just gotten up from a talk with some of the defenders.

“How drunk are you?“ He asked instantly upon noticing Niall’s glassy eyes and ruffled hair. He likely had more than the one drink he mixed up in the kitchen almost two hours ago, whereas Louis had actually paced himself.

“I’m still Irish, you know? Not drunk enough to lose this game, so don't disappoint me!“ The earnestness with which he said it made Louis chuckle, although he couldn't say he was quite convinced by the words.

“Are you quite done?“ A bored voice rumbled from across the table. Louis’ gaze snapped up jerkily. Of course, _of course_ , there was Harry, with crossed arms and furrowed brows, next to Liam, who was still engaged in a conversation with Wesley Avery. “It’s just, if you don't mind, maybe we could start this game sometime this year, you know?“ 

The sarcasm in his voice was causing Louis to roll his eyes to himself. He cleared his throat and lowered his head, though, not willing to incur Harry’s attention any more than necessary. “No need to make a fuss,“ he breathed out, only for Niall to hear, who, naturally, giggled not so subtly. 

“Is there something you have to say to me, Tomlinson?“ Harry asked though, voice sharp.

“Not at all. Let’s just get started so we can finish sometime this year, yeah?“ He replied sweetly, smile strained and utterly fake as he met Harry’s eyes for another second. Harry looked ready to call him out for his sassiness, but in the end thought better of it and let it go. He knocked his elbow into Liam’s side, who turned to Harry with a raised brow, but got ready nonetheless. A moment later the game began, and Louis had never been more determined to win.

Turns out, even though Niall was holding himself up good, all the alcohol in his system made him a rather terrible shot, which was suboptimal. It didn't matter that Louis played well, because Niall didn't manage to land a hit. Harry’s face was glowing with uninhibited joy and it made Louis want to gag. Liam, at least, was a fair player and didn't mock him and Niall as incessantly and maliciously as Harry did during every single one of their failed attempts. 

“My god, Horan, pull yourself together, will you! That’s just pitiful,“ he said at one point when Niall lost control over the ball, so it fell and rolled under the table. His voice was so obnoxious and condescending that Louis snapped and furiously threw his next ball straight at Harry. Honestly, what the fuck!

“Don’t talk to him like that,“ he hissed, braver than he really felt, even if Niall didn't seem to mind. He was busy with his phone now, taking shaky Snapchat selfies and choosing the weirdest emojis to top them off. 

“Did you just throw this fucking disgusting, beer-soaked ball at me?“ Harry asked, icily, and Louis realised what exactly he had done — well, too late now. It had been a spur of the moment thing, he obviously didn't think that through. Shit! He bit his bottom lip, heart rate picking up as he nervously dared meet Harry’s dark gaze.

“You don’t get to talk to my friend like this,“ he got out — not as strong and self-assured as he would have liked, but at least standing his ground. 

Harry’s eyes formed into tiny little slits. If Louis had held any hope for the next week of practice to get any better, it all vanished now. “I’m going to talk to the members of my team however I damn well please. You’ve got a problem with this?“ There was something dangerous in his voice, a warning, and it had an effect on the people surrounding them — the room grew quieter, the players turned to curiously observe their exchange, and Louis felt the back of his neck prickle. He didn't like this at all.

Still, he couldn't back down now. “Maybe I have.“

“That’s just to bad for you then, because I really don't _care_ ,“ Harry said calmly, a twisted smirk on his plush lips. He was so goddamn pretty — too bad his personality wasn't worth shit. Not that it would make any difference for Louis, Harry actually being a nice guy, because it wouldn’t. “Also, you have to drink for violating the rules.“

Louis wanted to protest, but Liam interrupted him preventively, a torn expression on his face as his eyes flitted in-between Louis and Harry. “He’s actually right, Louis. You get a penalty for throwing the ball at other players,“ he said, sounding almost sorry for it.

So Louis shrugged and emptied the cup closest to him with a few large swigs, because what else was he supposed to do? It wouldn't do to argue about this stuff; if it was a rule he would go by it, full stop. 

“Can we continue now?“ Niall suddenly piped up, apparently done with his phone, cheeks even redder than before. He kneeled down to let his hands roam for his previously dropped ball.

Louis suppressed a fond smile. “I think it’s better if we just stop here and let someone else play. You had enough, Irish boy.“ 

Niall didn't seem bothered either way, just shrugged and made his way to a group of Beta lads in the corner. Louis let him go, about ready to find a bathroom and a glass of water for himself upstairs, and maybe dance for a while. 

Harry’s voice held him back. “We’re not finished, Tomlinson. You’re going to play to the end. Liam can sit out so our teams are even.“ Liam threw Harry a weighty glance that Louis wasn't able to interpret, and then walked away without another word. Louis guessed he probably was glad to get out of the war zone. “Now, I think it’s my turn, innit?“ Harry continued. 

Louis internally sighed. Why couldn't Harry just use this opportunity and let it go? Clearly, they couldn't stand each other — a week of fierce practices had made that pretty obvious. It would be easier to just leave it, but really, it didn't surprise him that Harry would use every chance he got to bring Louis down. 

So they played on, Louis emptying every cup Harry hit without Niall’s help now, and he felt woozier from each one. This didn't go as planned at all, the alcohol getting to his head rapidly, leaving him pretty much completely drunk by the time Harry won. 

“That was weak, Tomlinson, really weak. I thought it was Horan getting you down, but you are not any good of a player yourself,“ Harry smirked at him, over the top gleeful, and Louis felt like gagging again, and this time he was rather certain there would be vomit coming up.

Instead of fumbling around for a witty reply that would only come out slurred and stammering he made do with flipping Harry the middle finger and turning away from the table and towards the stairs. Although most footie lads were still down here and he really didn't know anyone up there, he felt like he needed to get out. Everything was too small, too hot and the smell of Alpha boy was getting overwhelming; the smell of Harry in particular. Louis couldn't help finding his scent attracting, okay? It’s not like he was able to control the nature of his body.

+++

He found his way to the kitchen after a little bit of searching, stumbling over a fair few couples making out in the most uncomfortable places. It was the most PDA he had seen in his life, honestly, and if his mind were a little clearer he might actually be a little fascinated by it all. As it was, he was just happy to get to the kitchen and have this glass of water he had been fantasising about. 

Finding the bathroom turned out to be the bigger problem. Louis figured with a house as huge as this one there should be an abundance of toilets around, but alas, he had navigated through the whole ground floor without luck. So he tried the stairs in the brightly lit, but mostly empty front hall, unsure if the upstage area was even open to the party goers. It should be, he figured with a solemn nod to himself, because people needed loos and if there wasn't one down here then there had to be one up there. 

He wasn't proud of the way he swayed as he climbed the wide stairway, leaning heavily against the bannister. It was just, the alcohol was really beginning to make him dizzy. He shouldn't have played beerpong with a drunk, bad-shooting Niall in the first place. He _knew_ that his body wasn't the strongest in handling liquor. 

There was no going back now, of course.

He managed to find a bathroom eventually, feeling as if hours had passed since he first embarked on this adventurous search. He splashed water in his face, before using the toilet. Deciding then to take a moment to breathe, he sank down on the tile floor next to a lavish bathtub. He briefly considered if he felt like vomiting, but sitting on the cool ground with his eyes slipping shut he began to feel okay again. He just needed a second …

+++

The door flew open so unexpectedly that Louis nearly jumped out of his skin. His eyes snapped open in shock as the back of his head collided with the tub behind him with a heavy thump. 

“Ouch,“ he whined, tears springing to his eyes from the nasty impact, pain radiating through his body. For a moment, he felt totally out of it. “Fucking ouch,“ he added eventually, for good measure, raising a hand to feel the spot where he hit himself, glad when there was no bloody wound, because that would have really sucked. He definitely felt like puking now, though.

“Are you okay?“ A familiar voice asked, though Louis couldn't allocate it. Only then did he actually remember that someone burst into the room, because he had apparently forgotten to lock the door. Zero points to drunk Louis for that.

Suddenly, the someone was in front of him, leaning down. A face appeared before him. A pretty face, framed by chocolatey curls. Louis swallowed, put out. This couldn't be happening. Like, what were the odds? 

“Tomlinson! Did your brain just fall out of your head or what? Answer me!“ Maybe Louis was concussed, because to his ears Harry’s voice didn't sound half as mean as it usually did when they spoke.

“Go away, ‘m fine,“ Louis said weakly, a pout forming on his lips. This situation was a joke. 

Harry looked like he felt similarly. “Do you need to go to the hospital? Get your head checked out?“

Louis scrunched up his nose in displeasure. Hospitals were the worst. They would detect his Omega status in a matter of minutes and that would destroy everything. “No. Just — no. Leave me alone,“ he demanded, as insistently as he managed.

“How drunk even are you? You only had, like, five cups of beer.“ Harry’s eyes were squinty, pupils wide and green irises barely discernible as he stared directly at Louis.

“I had — Niall — Niall mixed me some drink, before. There was _a lot_ of booze in that,“ Louis explained, although he didn't think that he had to. Harry should just stick to his own damn business. With that in mind, Louis extended his arms and pushed Harry away, out of his space. It wasn't a particularly forceful shove, but it caught Harry of guard and he stumbled a few steps back. 

“You are a fucking pest, Tomlinson. I can’t very well leave you here for someone else to find; with this kind of behaviour you’ll embarrass the entire team. _My_ team,“ Harry snarled at him, brushing down the front of his clothes as if Louis’ touch had defiled them. It was ridiculous.

“Well, but I don't feel like leaving yet,“ Louis responded, turning away from Harry to crawl from him and the bathtub, standing up as soon as Harry’s infuriatingly lovely scent didn’t make him feel quite so dopey anymore. His knees were shaky, but he was pretty sure he could deal with that.

He heard Harry’s over-exaggerated groan from behind him. What a fucking drama queen! “Tomlinson, don't make me drag you out of here,“ the boy warned, sounding as serious as ever. 

Louis faced him again, pleased at the expression of utter and pure irritation on Harry’s features. Opening his mouth, he was ready to deliver some witty line, but Harry beat him to it. He took a large step forward, grabbed Louis’ wrist and pulled him from the room unceremoniously. Louis was a split-second away from screaming for help, which would have been the natural reaction of every Omega upon being hauled away by an Alpha against their will. He had to bite his tongue harshly to quash his basic instinct. He was reasonably certain that Harry wasn't actually going to hurt him.

“What are you doing?“ He managed to squeak out after a beat. Harry was pulling him towards the staircase, leading him down roughly, impatiently. He took the time to steady Louis, though, when he stumbled and missed a step. Which, that was nice, probably. 

At the foot of the stairs Harry stopped abruptly, which resulted in Louis crashing into him face first. “Ugh! What the —,“ he began to complain, blinking up at Harry questioningly. 

“I’m going to fetch Horan so the two of you can find your way home together, because I sure as hell won’t play your nanny and bring you to bed,“ Harry said, sounding like his usual grim self. He let go of Louis’ wrist and disappeared into the crowded living room. Louis wanted to yell after him and tell him that he wouldn't ever let Harry anywhere near his dorm or bed anyway, that he would rather sleep on the street than let Harry take care of him, but since the boy was long gone it wouldn't have made any sense to do so.

Louis wanted to dance with the people in the living room, because that looked nice, but his head was really hurting now and the pumping music wasn't helping. He was pretty sure he would wake up with a fucking annoying bump in the morning. How grand! This party really hadn't turned out how he expected it to. It wasn't bad, per se, it was just that Louis felt a bit like dying. 

As he was contemplating to vanish to somewhere else, just for the hell of it, Harry showed up again. Niall followed him, looking far more sober than he had when Louis had last seen him, eyes less befuddled. 

“There you go,“ Harry said, pushing Niall towards Louis and making him stumble, all without reason. He was such a brat, honestly. “Now, Horan, get him out of here and give him something for his head, because I won’t tolerate him missing practice a week in just because he’s a clumsy idiot and can’t handle a drink.“ 

Louis scoffed. “Fuck off!“

Harry narrowed his eyes at him, the furrow between his brows more prominent than ever. “Watch your fucking mouth, Tomlinson, or I can guarantee you won’t get to play a single game for as long as I’m the captain of the football team.“ 

And this, finally, made Louis give up. The fear was back, sobering him like a punch to the face. With acute clarity he was reminded of the power Harry held over him, of the things he could do to harm him, harm his play, harm his chances. The way he could destroy his entire future career with the snap of his fingers. He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. 

“Let’s go, Niall,“ he mumbled, gaze lowered and feeling more defeated than ever. Niall didn't hesitate, only stepped closer to Louis and wound an arm around his shoulders, guiding him out the front door gently. Neither of them offered a goodbye to Harry and when Louis dared to throw one last glance over his shoulder, the boy was already gone.

Louis slowly grew aware of how much he was going to regret this night in the morning, and not just for the inevitable hangover that would fuck up his entire Sunday. He already feared Monday’s practice. Fuck! 

+++


	4. FOUR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter sucks, I'm so sorry. I read the _Captive Prince_ trilogy this past weekend and it left me absolutely floored. Honestly, if you haven't read the books, do so now! (Contact me on tumblr for infos or links or whatever, if you want to!) Anyway, I'm still so invested in Damen and Laurent's story that I found it hard to come back to this one, haha. Of course I hope you enjoy reading, because I still gave it my everything, as always! 
> 
> Julia x

Louis dreaded the thought of this afternoon’s practice as he sat in his early, early morning History lecture on Monday. His legs were jiggling restlessly and the girl sitting in front of him had thrown him several annoyed glances already for it. Louis couldn't care less. He was knackered, his head still hurt from the blow it had taken Saturday night and his heart was beating somewhere in his guts, erratically, making him feel nauseous. 

He woke up to a message from his mum on his phone, a disappointed one that left a bitter taste in his mouth and made finding the right words to answer hard. _You promised to call me regularly, Lou!_ He had felt bad ever since, because he really did promise her and he knew she worried about him, always. 

She hadn't been too happy when she found out that he had faked his doctor’s certificate to apply for the Manchester University Alpha-Beta team, which maybe was an understatement. She actually fucking lost it, screamed at him with tears in her eyes for hours and then proceeded to not talk to him for days. Louis knew she only wanted the best for him and he realised that she was aware that he could destroy his entire future if his lie ever came to light — he could get in serious trouble for everything he had done, the several laws he had broken. She had been very accommodating with Louis faking his gender for his school’s team, because even though they, too, took their rules seriously, they weren't as strict as the university by far. His mum thought it couldn't do much harm should he ever accidentally out himself as an Omega back then. University was different, though, _so_ different. So much more was at stake and his mum was more concerned for him than ever. The least he could do was call her, like she asked him to. He was a terrible son.

All this added up to, of course, a terrible start into the new week. Originally he had promised himself to give it his best, ignore Harry and all the obstacles he was placing in his way and just play football, like he was born to do. Now, with the immediate prospect of seeing the team captain again, he only felt like bolting, locking himself in his room and hiding under the covers. But that just wasn't an option. Louis wasn't a quitter!

Obviously, his day wasn't awful enough, though. Someone in the universe just couldn't let him suffer in peace but had to make everything even worse. As he stepped out of the lecture hall after an excruciating two hours of learning about the beginnings of the British Empire he had nothing in mind but the need to catch another few hours of sleep before practice. Of course, that is when someone stumbled into him, and who should it be but the Beta boy from his English lecture on Tuesdays. The boy who had so incessantly stared at him. And now here, standing in front of Louis and looking so damn pleased, Louis was almost willing to bet he fell into him on purpose.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,“ the boy apologised, but it didn't sound at all sincere. He was smiling. 

Louis nodded, ready to leave this accident and the boy behind, when he was held back by a hand around his upper arm. He was a second away from furiously hissing at the Beta. How was it that people always felt entitled to touch him? 

“You’re in the English Lit lecture, aren't you? I remember your face,“ the boy continued and Louis hid his eye roll. I’m sure you know my face, you stared at me for an hour straight last week, Louis wanted to scoff, but bit his tongue.

Instead, he replied as politely as he could. “I am, yeah. Sorry, but I don't recognise you.“

“No worries, there are a lot of students in that lecture. I just — you stand out. You’re very handsome.“ The boy lowered his lashes in faux-shyness. 

Gag!

“Thanks … I guess,“ Louis mumbled, desperate to get away from him already. He hitched his bag up higher on his shoulder and let his eyes roam the almost cleared out corridor. 

“Hey, I’m Dean, by the way.“ The Beta, Dean apparently, held out his hand for Louis to shake. Which he did, even though he rather would walk away from this.

“Louis,“ he said, reluctantly. His mother raised him to be a polite person, after all. Come to think of — “Hey, sorry, but I really need to get going. I promised to give my mum a call.“ It was only a half-lie. 

Dean’s face fell a little and Louis was sure he didn't image that. Still, he smiled. “No problem! I’ll see you in the lecture tomorrow. And maybe we can grab a coffee after?“

Oh no! No, no, no. He just knew it would come to this. He certainly didn't want to ‘grab coffee’ with a boy who had creepily observed him for the better part of a two-hour lecture just a few days ago. He nodded anyway, smile strained and eyes reserved. “See you tomorrow,“ he pressed out noncommittally, before walking past the boy with fast steps, not stopping until he was outside the university building. 

+++

When he arrived in the locker rooms shortly before two o’clock he had called his mum and made amends with her, so ha had at least relieved his conscience. She hadn't been as peeved with him as he had originally assumed, just very glad that he had finally made good on his promise and reported back about his first weeks at university. Conveniently, he left out the part where his new team captain hated him. And he also didn't mention that he got absolutely drunk on Saturday and almost gave himself a concussion in the meantime. There was no use in worrying his mum when she already was on edge all the time thinking about him. He did tell her all about Niall, though, who in the last week alone had become a rather amazing friend, and about the lads from the footie team that didn't despise him. He told her that he loved all his courses so far, that he figured he really made a good choice with an English and History degree to fall back on, should his football dream turn out to be unattainable after all. His mum was happy with everything she heard, audibly smiling when Louis hung up on her eventually.

On the field, every thought about her was forgotten. He was tense as he stood next to Niall, paying attention to every word Coach Collins said and avoiding even looking in Harry’s general direction. He wanted to make a good impression today and that wouldn't happen if his mind was focused on Harry. 

After warm-up and stretching exercises, Collins decided on another practice game like the one they played on Friday, only this time for an entire ninety minutes so that he could monitor their stamina and endurance throughout. Louis was on board with that. If he was sure of one thing, it was that he could keep powering through an entire football match, no problem. 

He was put in a team with Niall, Mick, Liam, Terence and six other Alphas and Betas he hadn't gotten in real contact with yet, and after everyone got positioned on the field Coach Collins blew his whistle and they started off. 

The game proceeded to go much more powerful than the one on Friday did, everyone seeming more determined, more forward, willing to do everything possible for a fixed position on the starting team. Louis understood them well, understood where they were coming from. He wasn't playing any less resolutely. 

He realised that there only remained three weeks until their first game would take place and the Coach would have to make some decisions soon, to thoroughly prepare the players he wanted on the field that day. There needed to be some tactics talk (which Louis properly hated) and they had to practice moves that would help them win their first game against whichever opponent they would face. Because after all, that’s what they all were here for — winning! 

There hadn't been a goal scored when Collins whistles for half-time break forty-five minutes in. Liam had successfully defended two shots from hitting the net, proving that he deserved to be the number one team goalie. But Pat Dorst, the newbie Alpha goalkeeper that started along with Louis this year, also made good use of his skills. The one time Louis took an earnest shot at the goal Pat caught the ball expertly. It landed him a thumbs up from Harry, which was apparently some kind of big, meaningful gesture. Whatever … Louis didn't need praise from a boy with bad manners, an inflated ego and anger issues. 

After the break the game got more heated, more aggressive. There was fouling and deliberate diving, but the Coach was having none of it, screaming red-faced at every player who attempted to fight dirty. There wasn't a game changing moment until Louis got the ball close to the 6-yard-box and passed over to Luke Schwartz, his fellow forward in this game. The Alpha managed a brilliant shot at the goal. Pat was not jumping far and fast enough, the ball gliding just past his outstretched fingers, landing in the corner of the net. 

There was a short, stunned moment, then Louis threw his fist up in the air triumphantly before running over to Luke, high-fiving him excitedly. He promptly felt a stupid, almost childish, for being so delighted at a scored goal in a practice game against his own teammates, and even more so when he considered that Luke was a 4th year student, had done this hundreds of times now. But the Alpha himself was grinning big and bright, enthusiastically slapping Louis’ hand.

“Great assist, Tomlinson, well done!“ Luke complimented. Surprised and pleased at the words, Louis couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face as he walked back to get into position again. As he raised his head, ready for the game to continue, he met Harry’s eyes across the pitch. Even from so far away, Louis spotted the furrow between his dark eyebrows, the straight set of his shoulders, the heavy rise and fall of his chest. It was clear the boy wasn't happy with the course of the game. Louis had to bite hard on his lips to not outright gloat. He was on the winning side and he would enjoy it to the full extent, even more so when he knew how much it agitated Harry.

There were only about ten minutes left in the game, but the players were still going strong. Louis himself didn't grow tired of jogging up and down the field, his eyes constantly on the ball, his body always ready to attack and fight for another goal. He crossed Harry’s way once or twice, since most of them had broken their position a while ago. At the end of the game everybody was just eager to either score another goal or to defend, all players getting more and more huddled together in the process. Although the Coach was shouting at them to keep their formations, to remember tactics and strategies, nobody really cared anymore. 

Louis got the ball passed to him by Terence and dribbled it with ease closer towards the opposing goal. He watched out for team members, searched for Luke in between the faces of boys. Just as he made the decision to pass back to Terence, the defence to strong now to get through on his side, he stumbled, a though kick to the calf making his left leg buckle. He lost the ground under his feet before he could even make sense of the situation, fell face-first into the grass as a breathless exclamation of pain rolled over his lips. His hands went to his calf instantly, as if his touch could vanquish the burning pain that was flaring up. 

He heard the blow of the whistle. “What the hell was that, Styles?“ Coach Collins’ voice drifted across the field, exasperation and anger audible in it. Louis’ eyes felt teary.

“An accident, Coach. Slipped on the grass and lost control of my footing.“ And that was Harry’s voice, sounding loud, clear and unapologetic from somewhere above Louis. 

Of course! Louis silently scoffed. Of course it would be Harry Styles who _accidently_ ran him over. Sitting up, Louis threw a glance at the boy, who, although standing right next to him, made no move to help him up. Harry didn't even bother to look at him. Louis wanted to punch him in the fucking face, if only the simmering pain in his leg would subside already. This had to be some kind of twisted payback for Saturday, Louis just knew it!

He realised that Collins was making his was towards them. The man got on the ground next to Louis, scrutinising his injured calf for a moment, feeling across the flesh for any serious harm done to it. The rest of the team observed them silently. Louis could make out Niall’s form at the end of the field. Everything about this was awkward and unnecessary and it was all Harry’s fault. Harry who was still standing next to him, indifference radiating off of him.

“Doesn’t look like anything serious, Tomlinson. Just a bruise. Rest your leg for the day, cool it a bit. Should be good to go again tomorrow,“ the Coach said eventually, getting up in a fluid motion and pulling Louis to his feet with him. Louis wanted to disagree. He was good to go _now_. He didn't need rest. As he tried to stand on his leg, though, it almost gave out under him. His cheeks immediately flushed red in embarrassment. Collins sighed next to him. “Styles, makes yourself useful and help Tomlinson off the field, it’s the least you can do!“ This time, Louis really was ready to protest. In no case did he need Harry to help him. He would rather crawl. And judging by the malicious look in Harry’s eyes, he would rather see Louis crawl, too. The steely words of Coach Collins didn't give either of them a choice, though. “Now, boys! We still have a few minutes of the game time left and I want to get this over with.“

There really wasn't much they could do. Louis turned his eyes to the ground as he felt Harry’s hand settle at his waist. His grip was strong and firmer than necessary, but Louis didn't dare say a word. He stumbled more than he walked towards the sideline, Harry a steady presence next to him. They were silent.

“You could say sorry, you know. It’s what any decent human being would do in a situation like this,“ Louis huffed out as they finally got to the bench. It felt like they had just walked for hours, despite it only being a few meters. 

“It was an accident,“ Harry said cooly, gripping Louis’ shoulders harshly to guide him to sit on the bench. 

Louis rolled his eyes as he leaned over to examine his leg for himself. The pain had lessened a bit, the initial shock forgotten. It was already turning purple now. “Right. You slipped on the dry grass with your cleats, didn't you?“ The sarcasm was heavy in his voice. From his position he could only see Harry’s feet in his football shoes, the beginnings of his muscly legs. He didn't want to look up into Harry’s emotionless face again, didn't want to see his ungiving smirk, his cold eyes.

He stayed leaned over until Harry walked away. 

+++

When the game ended, with a final score of 1:0 for Louis’ team to his enormous satisfaction, his leg felt stiff and walking pinched, but that was nothing he couldn't handle. He made his way with the rest of the lads to the locker room, Niall coming up right beside him, ranting about how shitty Harry had behaved towards Louis, how it hadn't looked like an accident at all from Niall’s point of view. Louis knew all that, but it was nice having other people notice it, too. 

He took his time in the shower, favouring his leg, taking care to massage it a little in the hope the stiffness would lessen. He really hoped he would be able to play again tomorrow. There was no time to sit out on practices. He would miss the chance to get picked as a starting forward for the first game. He frowned at the thought alone. It wouldn't be surprising to him if that had been Harry’s plan all along — get him injured and seated on the bench while everyone else competed for their positions, with the aim in mind to leave Louis unable to play the first big game of the year. 

He wouldn't give Harry the satisfaction. He would play tomorrow, and every other day, and he would fight for a starting position and he would stay the fuck away from Harry so as not to risk another injury. He wouldn't let Harry destroy his career.

Niall and him were some of the last team members leaving the locker rooms and that is when Louis realised he had a problem. Stepping into the late afternoon sun his eyes fell on his bike, chained to the racks. With his leg like this he wouldn't be able to actually cycle back to the dorms — walking was strenuous enough.

“Fucking shit,“ he cursed, ruffling his hair. He would have to leave the bike behind for the day and just walk all the way back. 

Niall threw him a pitiful glance. “That sucks, Lou, I’m sorry. You know I’d walk with you, but my lecture starts soon and I —“

Louis interrupted him. “No worries, Nialler, go grab some food and be a diligent student,“ he said, smiling at his friend. He wouldn't expect anything of Niall, knew that the boy had his Monday evening lecture lined up and not much time to spare. “I’ll find my way back home.“ He chuckled, mainly in the hope of assuring Niall that he was okay. 

Niall walked towards his own bike, besides Louis’ the only one that remained in the racks in front of the football stadium. The Beta still looked insanely guilty as he rode off, bag slung over his shoulders and hair fluttering in the light breeze. Louis would make sure to send him some funny Snapchat selfies to brighten him up again. 

He walked over to his own bike slowly, still careful with his left leg, and made sure to check if the lock was chained securely. He really hoped nothing would happen to it over night, because one could never be sure in an area where drunk and rambunctious uni students were out and about every night. He really couldn't afford a new bike. But he also couldn't take it with him now, didn't really need extra baggage to haul along on the way to the dorm with his leg in the condition it now was.

Sighing to himself, he hitched his sports bag up higher on his shoulder and began walking towards the street, following the way he’d normally cycle along. It wouldn't take him longer than thirty minutes to get home and it wasn't actually that much of a problem, but there was no denying that everything about this was annoying.

He really would like to know what he ever did to Harry in the first place that made him hate Louis so much.

There were barely any people around, just a few scarce students on their bikes and no more than two cars. It was a nice day, although the darkening sky way promising some rain later on. Would be nice to be home by then, Louis figured. Last thing he needed was to catch a cold. 

There was a car driving up behind him, and normally Louis wouldn't bother to waste a thought about it, only the car was getting slower and slower, as if it got ready to stop right next to him. And, even if he didn't let it on, that scared him. Creepy people in slow cars spelled danger.

And he was, even behind all his walls and underneath the protecting layer of suppressants, still an Omega. He was, even though well-trained and active, still weaker than any Alpha and most Betas. He was vulnerable, as much as he loathed to admit it. If anyone ever decided to come at him, there would, in all actuality, not be much he could do.

His heart rate sped up and he swallowed, inconspicuously letting his eyes roam the streets in front of him, hoping for another person to be around. The car came up next to him and despite knowing better, Louis turned his head to look at the driver.

He never thought he would ever be glad to see the smug smirk and chocolatey curls of Harry Styles. But, in any case, it was only a short moment of tense relief, the realisation that there was no immediate danger lingering. He raised a single, questioning eyebrow at the Alpha, before facing forward again. He really didn't need Harry showing off his pretty, shiny car after he just kicked Louis’ calf hard enough that he couldn't even ride his own bike home. Tosser!

If he thought Harry would speed off down the street he thought wrong. Harry kept following him, his car almost soundless and the window apparently open, because Louis could hear music from the radio. He was gritting his teeth.

“You can get in the car, Tomlinson, you know,“ Harry said after they spent a few awkward seconds doing this whole thing, however you might call it. Was this some form of bullying?

Louis stopped and stared at Harry as if he had lost his mind. “Why in God’s name would I ever do that?“

Harry rolled his eyes in return, a bored expression in place as he brought his car to a halt. “I don’t think it’s particularly good for you to walk home. Your leg looks like it’s hurting.“ 

“And whose fucking fault it that, huh?“ Louis spat out, all his anger from before returning. Harry really deserved to be punched in the face and if Louis were born an Alpha he wouldn't hesitate to do it himself. 

“Jesus, you _are_ quite the bitchy person, aren't you. Just get in the car already, I’ll drive you to your dorm.“ Harry drummed his fingers on his steering wheel as the song changed in the background. 

Louis really would have loved to flip him the finger and stalk off on his own, but the truth was that his leg had begun smarting again and it probably would be better if he just went easy with it for the remainder of the day. Even accepting this, it still took enormous effort to swallow his pride and walk to the passenger door. 

“There you go,“ Harry said, and if it weren't for the relentless aloofness that overshadowed his every action Louis would say he almost sounded pleased. 

He decided not to respond, wouldn't find nice words to utter anyway. The last thing he needed was another fight. And anyway, why was Harry feeling the need to take him home? Did his consciousness suddenly wake up inside his dark and twisted body? Surely not! 

Louis busied himself with staring out the window as he listened to an indie song starting up, lots of guitar strums and smokey voices filling the car. He wouldn't have pegged Harry for a guy to enjoy this kind of music. 

“Which dorm house is yours?“ Harry asked.

“17-B,“ Louis mumbled, not turning away from the window. He saw Harry nod out of the corner of his eye anyway.

As they drove along the empty streets, Louis felt something flip inside him, as if some kind of button had been pressed. Unexpectedly, he had more and more trouble keeping himself calm and collected. He felt hot and sensitive, his throat suddenly parched, his heart pounding inside his ribcage so hard that Louis thought Harry must hear it. It took him a good few minutes to figure out why he reacted like this, and when he did, it left him reeling. The thing was that the entire car smelled like Harry, like Alpha; musky, manly and heady. It was affecting Louis in ways he didn't like at all. The last thing he needed was to get aroused by this. Fuck, it was only a scent! But his body had always been a traitor, so much has been clear to Louis ever since that morning that he woke up in heat for the very first time. But be that as it may, he just _couldn’t_ get wet next to Harry, couldn't dampen his pants and Harry’s dark leather seats with his sweet-smelling slick. The thought alone stained his cheeks pink and he lowered his lashes, hoped to God that Harry didn't notice his more than tense composure. His hands were clawing into his thighs while he tried to avoid breathing in through his nose. This was actual hell, no kidding! 

He was going insane.

When the university dorm buildings came into view, Louis was ready to cry with joy. The pain in his leg was completely forgotten as he got himself ready to run for the hills. He needed to get as far away as possible.

Harry parked at the curb and turned of the engine. His expensive car wasn’t fitting the picture at all, sandwiched as it was in-between an outdated VW and a rusty Volvo. Louis wanted to open the door, but there was something in Harry’s demeanour that made him pause. 

“I’m sorry,“ Harry said eventually. It was lacking every kind of emotion.

Louis took a cautious breath. “No, you're not,“ he replied, shrugging his shoulders halfheartedly. It didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was getting away from Harry and his intoxicating scent.

On his way out of the car he made sure to slam the door shut. 

+++

Louis felt like breaking down as soon as his room door closed behind him. He let his bag fall to the ground carelessly and sank against the closest wall, his eyes snapping shut as he exhaled shuddery breaths. 

“What happened? What the hell just happened?“ He asked the white wall he pressed his face against. His voice was shaky and thin and he hated himself for it. For all of this. He shouldn't have gotten into Harry’s car in the first place. Hadn't he sworn to himself that he would keep his distance just shortly beforehand? What was wrong with him? Why did he get himself into these fucking situations time and time again?

He groaned loudly. His body was aching. His muscles were strained, his leg was messed-up and he was hard in his pants. Hard because of Harry’s scent. This had to be a bad, ugly joke. The universe was enjoying this torture. But if Louis was good at one thing, it was ignoring obvious problems and moving on as if they didn't exist. 

He straightened up again, wiped his fringe out of his eyes and shook his head in an effort to clear his jumbled mind. He had work to do — there was no time to overthink his body’s reactions and even less time to occupy himself with them. He still needed to read a good chuck of _Sense and Sensibility_ for his lecture in the morning and also should prepare himself some sort of dinner if he didn't plan on starving to death this night.

Turned out that Jane Austen’s writing was an actual mood-killer and Louis was incredible grateful for it. Reading about Marianne’s devastation about her love’s engagement to another woman managed to soothe his racing pulse and settle his muddled thoughts. 

He cooked a simple serving of Mac and Cheese for dinner, and while he lounged on his bed and spooned the food into his mouth he typed out messages to Niall, informing him of what happened after he had left the stadium. Niall, ever the person to rely on, showed all the exasperation, disdain and witty humour that Louis had expected of him, accomplishing with a few words and flawlessly chosen emojis to brighten up Louis’ evening. 

Later on, he fell asleep with his copy of Austen’s novel resting on his chest and the light on his bedside table still on. But he didn't dream of Elinor or Marianne and their century-old problems. Instead, he was haunted by Harry’s smell, the way it had hung in the small space of the car, how it had clung to the seats, how it had so completely fogged up his mind. He woke up startled sometime after three o’ clock, with come sticking to his groin and slick leaking out of him. In a wave of panic and anger he threw the book across the room with a stifled yell.

+++

Needless to say that Tuesday started no less horribly than Monday did. He woke up too late and had to rush into the shower to wash the traces of his nighttime fiasco from his body. He barely managed to look into the mirror, shocked with himself. It had been a long time since he last had a wet dream and actually came from it. 

In the end, at least him being late to the lecture turned out to be fortunate, because this way he managed to avoid having to speak to Dean or, worse, sitting next to him. He entered when the professor was already talking in the front and sneaked into a seat in the last row so as to not disturb anyone or call attention to himself. Two hours later, he fled the room before Dean had even a chance to notice him. 

The best thing to happen this day, surprisingly, was practice, though. Practice which, to Louis’ astonishment, proceeded to go by entirely uneventful. Harry didn't give him a hard time even once, let slip no snide comments nor directed any dark looks Louis’ way. In fact, it seemed as if the team captain was purposefully keeping his distance, just like Louis had planned to do, too. It was almost disturbing, but Louis certainly wasn't complaining. His leg was still throbbing, after all, a reminder of what being close to Harry would do to him — nothing good, to say it lightly! 

Maybe he finally, finally would get to have his peace to enjoy football and practices to the full. It’s all he had wished for since the beginning of term! 

+++


	5. FIVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm becoming more insecure with every new chapter I post, how terrible, lmao. I hope you enjoy this, though, and I hope everything makes sense. I'm so sorry for the wait, too, uni is still taking up all of my time and eating away at my inspiration, which I hate. Also, once again, thank your for all the support, you are such wonderful people. And all my love to the people who write me on tumblr, you all make me so happy! 
> 
> Julia x

On Wednesday a week later, Harry was still behaving oddly towards Louis. Oddly in the way that he didn't once lash out on him, didn't once make a stupid, mean remark, didn't once criticise Louis for a bad move or a weak play. Harry acted almost civil with him, if it could be considered civil to completely ignore one of your team mates. Louis knew that he was sill wilfully singled out by the captain and he didn't particularly enjoy it, but if someone had to experience Harry’s blatant disregard, of course it was to be him. In the end he wasn't about to complain, though, because practises now were a hundred times better and more pleasant than they had been just days ago. 

Louis finally got to play how he had wanted to from the start and it was fucking amazing. He felt good, he felt brilliant and he knew his footwork and technique reflected his inner joy and spirit. He was pretty sure he didn't imagine the looks he got from Coach Collins throughout practice — a kind of approving eyebrow-raise that didn't seem like much but clearly expressed his moderate approval. Louis just knew he was on the right way to becoming the strongest, fastest and quickest player he has ever been. He was on fucking fire.

But although he knew he played like there was no tomorrow and improved with what felt like every single session, managed to fit in better and better with all the other players and got the hang of every move and tackle they practiced, he was still nervous about today. Because today, the Coach would announce who got to play the first game of the season, the starting eleven. And damn it, Louis wanted to be in this game more than anything, which didn't exactly lessen the pressure he was experiencing.

They were almost done with their practice for the day, their focus throughout the session mostly on penalty shots, which was something Louis liked to think he excelled in. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Coach Collins on the trainer bench, clipboard in hand and concentrated look on his face as he made hastily scribbled notes. Louis’ heart was beating too fast, thumping against his ribcage. 

“You look as if you’re going to break down every moment,“ Niall said, gently elbowing him in the side. Louis blinked and focused on the scene before him again. He was next in line to take a shot at the goal, which Liam guarded at the moment. 

“It’s just big. I want this so bad,“ Louis responded, trying to keep his voice low. He swallowed heavily. “I want to play this game.“

He felt Niall pat his back in support. “You will, Lou, I’m sure of it. You played fucking fantastic this last week. Collins would be mad not to choose you.“ 

That managed to bring a small smile onto Louis’ lips. “Thanks, Nialler. You too, though! You’re a real asset,“ he said, sincerity strong in his tone. It earned him a bright grin. 

There wasn't any more time for small talk then, as Louis had to get ready for his shot. He evaluated Liam’s position in the goal, took in his stance and incline, then nodded to himself and kicked the ball towards the left top corner. Liam reacted instantly, but the ball hit the net before he could jump far enough to catch it. 

“Nice work, Lou!“ Mick came up next to him and Louis turned to give him a high five. Apart from Niall, Louis got along greatly with Mick and Adam. It might be the fact that the both of them were Betas, and therefore less intimidating than Alphas to Louis. Whatever the reason may be, he would hit up the pub with the them and Niall on Friday and he knew it would be a good night.

“Thanks, mate!“ Louis walked away from the penalty spot, so Niall could move up to take position for his own shot, but all action was interrupted by the blow of the Coach’s whistle. 

“Gather around boys!“ The Coach yelled across the field, and suddenly the smile was wiped off Louis’ face. He could his feel his hands getting clammy. God, he wanted this! He needed this!

“I’m gonna make this quick, all right? I’ve been pretty sure about my choices since Monday, talked them over with Styles yesterday and today just made sure none of the chosen ones will disappoint me or him. I’m pretty confident that the team I assembled will win us this first game and I expect nothing less,“ Collins explained, and there was a serious edge to his voice. Louis didn't much fancy to witness the man’s reaction should they lose this game, or any of the ones to come. He guessed there would be excruciating practices following such an event, as a punishment just as much as to get them in line again.

“I’m going to read out your names, you know your positions so I’m not going to dumb it down for you. I don't want to hear any complaints and I don't want anyone come crying to me — if you're not chosen today, it’s because you weren't good enough, simple as that. I’m not here to pamper you. Everyone not chosen today will have another chance and after that, another. I want all of you to give your very best, all day, every day, are we clear?“ 

There was a rumble of agreement going through the twenty-two boys and the Coach nodded, before bringing his clipboard up. He began reading off names in a brusque voice, and Louis noticed players next to him sigh in relief and scrunch up their faces in displeasure when realising their position was manned with another team member. But honestly, he couldn't much sympathise with any of them, because his own position was still open — his “opponent“ in fighting for the spot still not called out either. The other boy playing left forward, Ryan Johnson, was a year three Alpha, who, in Louis’ opinion, didn't offer much. He wasn’t a bad player, of course, just not remarkable in any way, either. That neither of their names had been called yet didn't mean anything, though. Collins could've just decided to change the formation for the game and leave out the left forward entirely, just go with Adam as the centre-forward and Stan Daniels as the second striker, maybe put more attention to the defence for this game and be done with it. 

Just as Louis was begging the deities above to not let the Coach go with this plan, he heard his name being called. His head snapped up at the sound of “Tomlinson“, and for a second he looked around confused. Then, someone was flinging themselves at him and he stumbled, shocked. What just happened?

“You play, Lou. Congrats!“ That was Niall, cuddled up against Louis’ right side and beaming. And slowly it sunk in — he _was_ playing. Collins had chosen him. Fucking hell!

The last name fell from Collins lips, then, and it was over. The moment Louis had dreaded so much was over and he … he got to play. Something else registered with him suddenly, and his eyes searched for Niall’s. The boy was still holding onto him, and although his smile was still in place, it wasn't quite as brilliant anymore. Niall hadn't been chosen. What the hell?

Louis opened his mouth, flabbergasted and helpless as to what to say to console the other boy, but Niall spoke up before Louis had even gathered his thoughts. “It’s okay, Lou, don't worry about me. I’ll get my chance eventually.“ 

Louis pouted, feeling genuinely sad for his friend. “I’m still sorry.“

“Me too,“ Niall admitted, nodding lightly, eyes a little downcast. The group of boys around them was splitting up and walking towards the locker room. Apparently Collins had ended the practice and neither of them did notice it. “But let’s be happy for you. Sooner or later we’ll play a game together and we will fucking win it. For now, I’m just going to be your personal cheerleader from the sidelines.“ And as if the whole situation was just a minor blow to Niall’s constant happiness, he was grinning radiantly again, teeth on display as he slung his arm around Louis’ shoulders and guided him to the lockers and showers. 

Louis really loved Niall a whole lot.

+++

His joy and excitement about being chosen for the starting eleven lasted days on end and, if possible at all, Louis felt like he was improving even more during their afternoon practices. 

There wasn't much change in the structure of the training sessions overall. Collins put in more time into exercising tactical moves and, since appointing the team, keeping the chosen players together during all the practice games so that they could get used to working with each other. Which ultimately meant that Louis had to actually learn how to play with Harry now. With Louis as a forward and Harry as the attacking midfielder of the team, they had to be perfectly in sync with each other — their passing game needed to be on point, since they had to outplay the defence of the other team to get the ball towards the opposing goal. 

Normally, Louis didn't have any problems to connect with the attacking midfielders he was paired up with. In fact, frequently they became his best mates on the teams he used to play on, simply because they spent so much time working with each other on the pitch. That wouldn't happen with Harry, though, Louis was rather sure of that. 

He and Harry had kept their distance from each other ever since that afternoon of Louis’ injury that had been followed up with Harry driving him home. It had worked out just fine this way, everything was good just as it was. Now that they were basically forced to work well together to help their team win they were facing some problems, though. For one, they barely managed to hold eye contact for long enough to convey planned moves to the other to avoid having to shout them across the field for everyone else to hear. Which would in itself create another issue anyway, because Harry and Louis just weren't talking, full stop. Mostly, they kept to themselves and played to any other available player, if at all possible. The times they passed the ball between the two of them in one game could probably be counted on two hands. It was a little bit ridiculous and also a whole lot unnecessary, but honestly, what was Louis supposed to do about it? Of course it put a damper on the whole team play — although they were still a strong squad in louis’ opinion, Louis could feel the impatience radiating off the other members as they witnessed Harry and Louis’ weird interactions, or non-interactions. Also, Louis was sure Collins was about to rip them a new one soon, if the progressively dangerous-growing steely looks he kept throwing them at the end of each session were anything to go by.

So, to sum it up, yeah, Louis was pretty euphoric and had a grand time playing every single game. There was just the slight problematic situation with him and Harry. Their starting team was strong, but damn, it could be stronger — Louis knew that. 

They were about to finish their 90 minute practice game any second now. Louis had shot one goal in the first halftime, to which he was assisted by Adam, because they worked actually great together. It was like they could read each others minds, their plays and moves and tactics getting better with every single training session. Louis really enjoyed that. 

Coach Collins blew his whistle just when Louis suspected him to, and all boys gathered around at the side of the pitch to listen to the concluding words of the day’s practice. 

“Good game, everybody. We’ll go over some details tomorrow, because for now I need to have a word with Styles and Tomlinson. They rest of you can go shower.“ That was all Collins said, voice steady and calm as always, even when Louis felt his heart drop out of his chest. 

Niall threw him a pitying look, which gave Louis the push he needed to get his facial expression under control again. He was sure that, for a moment there, he had gaped with wide eyes and an ajar mouth. 

As the boys scattered away, leaving Louis and Harry behind with the Coach, Louis realised he was the only one so obviously freaked out about this all. Harry stood his ground with his usual aloofness, seeming not at all concerned about what they were about to be told. 

Collins started off by clearing his throat. He looked pissed. “I’m sure you can imagine why I held the two of you back, can’t you?“ While Louis nodded timidly, Harry remained unaffected and motionless. “Boys, there is a reason why I chose you for the starting team. You know the first game of the season is an important one and I want this team to win it. And you are screwing it all up just because you can’t pull yourselves together. Do you think this is a fucking joke or what?“ Collins was raising his voice now, probably unaware about it. Louis wasn’t, though, because his inner Omega cowered at the tone. After all, the Coach was an Alpha, and Louis’ body reacted to him accordingly — to his strict voice, his serious eyes, his obvious discontent, the pure strength radiating off of his body. As an Omega, Louis wanted to submit instantly and do everything in his power to make things right again, and quickly at that. It made him hate himself, feeling like this.

“Coach, I’m not sure what —“ Harry began, and it sounded to Louis as if he was ready to start a discussion. It was no surprise, really, because why would Harry ever see himself in the wrong? Louis only wished for this entire talk to be over as soon as possible. His skin was prickling.

“Quiet! I don't want to hear a word of you,“ Collins interrupted instantly, his voice harsh as he pointed at Harry. “I would have expected better of the both of you, really, but you in particular, Styles! I didn't make you captain of this team so you could bullshit around and endanger the outcome of this years championship. Does one of you care to enlighten me as to what the issue here is? Is there a reason why you seem to be plainly unable to work together or do you just want to annoy me into insanity?“

There was a beat of silence following the words and Louis realised that the Coach wanted an actual answer. Louis opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no sound came out. 

“There is no issue, honestly. Some miscommunication is all. I’m sorry. We both are,“ Harry said eventually, adding the last part with an undertone and a side glance that was burning Louis’ skin. Apart from that he sounded indifferent as always, but his stance revealed that he was actually giving up, ready to accept that he was the inferior here and should do better. His mouth felt parched.

Apparently, that was what Collins had wanted all along.

“Good, I damn well hope so! Tomorrow, I want to see some improvement, is that clear?“ This time, the Coach actually used his Alpha voice, most likely to generate the respect he wanted his players to have for him. He seemed to feel the need to portray himself as the biggest, boldest Alpha around and he managed it amazingly — Louis felt like he had to stomp a part of himself to death to not let out the whimper that was immediately clogging his throat. His hair was standing on end. Everything in him screamed for him to placate the Alpha, to fall onto his knees in front of him if he had to. He was about to puke, overwhelmed with it all. 

Again, Harry answered, saving Louis, probably unconscious of the storm that was raging on in his head. “Very clear, Sir!“

Collins nodded shortly, expression easing. “Off you go, then!“ 

Louis didn't need to be told twice. He was ready to run as far and fast as possible to just get away, but that would maybe come across a bit too suspicious. He tried to take a few calming breaths as he spurted across the pitch. He could sense Harry right behind him.

“What is wrong with you?“ The boy asked as soon as they entered the locker room and the door fell shut behind them. They were alone, the spaces around all cleaned off and the showers silent, everybody else apparently having left already.

“What do you mean?“ Louis asked in return, his face flushing. Or maybe it had been flushed the whole time? His hands were shaking as he stalked towards his locker, fumbling around with the lock for a while before getting it open. Everything was too much. 

Harry snorted, his voice mocking when he explained. “Well, you don't normally hold back with the sass. Is the little Beta baby by any chance afraid of the mighty Alpha Coach? Honestly, I’ve never seen anyone react like you did — it was embarrassing to watch. Were you about to wet yourself or what?“ 

Louis couldn't even bother to roll his eyes. He searched for his shower gel and shampoo, grabbed a towel from the stack next to the lockers on his way to the shower room. Harry, of course, was hot on his heels, not done with ridiculing him.

“Fucking hell, Tomlinson, did Collins actually scare you into submission?“ 

While Harry seemed to think this whole situation was hilarious, Louis felt like he was genuinely about to get sick. And not just sick in the sense of vomiting all over the shower floor, but sick in the sense of fevers, chills and aches. All he got out was a weak “Shut up!“, which lacked every bit of the fire he usual prided himself on. 

Harry, to Louis’ pure astonishment, didn't respond. For a moment he believed, hoped almost, that the boy didn't actually enter the shower room with him, that he was giving Louis a moment. That wasn't the case, of course, because suddenly water began to pour from a shower head right beside him, causing him to jump and spin to face Harry. Harry, who was standing there beautifully naked and gloriously wet, staring right back at Louis, facial expression not possible to make out in-between the steam that was starting to rise around them.

There was a weird sort of tension falling over the room and for once Louis was sure it hadn't anything to do with a brewing argument or their blatant dislike for each other. He swallowed heavily, aware that Harry’s eyes weren't looking away, instead wandering up and down his body. 

Louis wanted to snap his fingers and vanish from here. Everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes was too much for him to handle and this equated the overkill, it really did. Louis didn't hesitate to run this time, too terrified of what he might do, of what might happen, if he stayed. 

He snatched his washing stuff and fled from the room as if the devil himself was after him. Never before had he gotten dressed so quickly; his clothes were sticking to him in various places because his skin was still damp. He slammed his locker shut, stuffed his dirty training clothes into his bag and jogged for the door just as he heard the running shower in the other room shut off. He didn't pause, didn't turn, just rushed out into the breezy afternoon and for his bike. 

Harry didn't catch up to him, not that Louis expected him to. He rode back to his dorm in half the time it usually took him.

+++

To say the situation between Harry and Louis the next day was awkward would be an understatement. The only good thing was that it was a Friday and Louis would have two whole entire days off to collect his bearings again after todays practice. 

He was a wreck already after the simple discussion of the previous day’s game. Collins repetitive glances at him and Harry left him real nauseous. He could just imagine how he would fare once they started the game of the day. First, there was tactical exercises to go through, though, and Louis never thought he would be thankful for a specially added fitness portion of twenty minutes that Collins deemed necessary, but he was. 

Once the actual game began, Louis was on edge. He knew the Coach wanted to see some good stuff coming off him and Harry today, but feeling jittery and out of it like he was, Louis wasn't sure he could provide anything substantial. The last thing he wanted was to loose his place in the starting eleven and the threat alone left his whole body numb.

He was sure his heart was about to give out on him when, while everyone was getting in position and Collins shouted at one of the defence players, Harry came up to him, clapping him on the shoulder too strongly for it to be meant as a friendly gesture. Harry’s face was unreadable as always, but for once there was no menacing gleam in his eyes. Louis wasn't sure if that was a good sign, though.

“I don't know you, I certainly don't know whats wrong with you and to be frank, I don't fucking care,“ Harry started to talk before Louis could ask any questions. His voice was quiet and hissy, meant to be audible to Louis’ ears only. “Just — get it together, Tomlinson, damn it! I’ve no problem getting reprimanded by Collins once, but I won’t let it happen again just because you’re loosing your shit over nothing.“ 

Louis wanted to reply, but all the words that came to his mind would be useless to utter out loud, because Harry, being Harry, would just swipe them away carelessly. So instead he looked up at the boy who was looming over him like he had that very first day when they met in the locker room, chocolatey curls and sharp eyes creating a cutting contrast in the autumn sun that was illuminating the football pitch. It was a stance clearly meant to intimidate Louis, but to his surprise and disgust, there were other feelings emerging, too, more confusing feelings overwhelming him, other than the intended fear. The weird flutter in his belly made him turn away from Harry.

“There is no need to make a big deal out of this. I’ll pass you the ball, you’ll pass me the ball and we’re done with it. We just have to convince Collins that we can play together, don't have to become best mates, good lord,“ Harry added, directed at Louis’ back, voice cold.

Louis nodded, hoping Harry would see and accept this response of him. He would do his best to show Collins that they could work as a team. There wasn't anything more to it. Harry was right, even if Louis loathed to admit it. There was no need to make this into a big thing. They just had to kick the ball between the two of them a bit more often, try to convey some tactics with a bit of eye contact and some unobtrusive head and hand gestures and be done with it. 

Louis could do this.

+++

And of course Louis did do it. 

The game went all right and even though they lost to the other team by 2:3, he and Harry at least played through some pretty amazing moves together. Louis supposed there was some potential there and if they had started off any differently they probably would make a rather decent combo of a forward and a midfielder. 

But alas, Harry seemed to despise him with a vengeance and Louis was a messy mess of mixed up feelings about it all.

It was something Louis didn't quite know how to deal with, mostly because he never had been in a situation like this before. He couldn't understand why everything had escalated so quickly, so extremely after yesterdays talk with Collins. He just knew that his emotions were all over the place and it was _driving him insane!_

The worst thing was probably that he just couldn't figure Harry out. To this day he didn't understand what he ever did to the boy that made him instantly dislike Louis so thoroughly. Louis wanted a reason, an explanation. Just something. It also didn't help that there had been this moment between them. Or maybe Louis was the only one regarding it as _a moment._ It didn't even matter, though, if Harry recognised it or not, because for Louis the day before, the minutes they spent in the shower together, wet, naked and caught up in each other, that was something to him and he hated it, damned it all to hell. 

He never asked for any of this!

He just knew that now, something was wrong, something had changed and he couldn't cope with it because he didn't understand it in the first place. 

This is why when the Coach ended practice and didn't hold Louis or Harry back for another talk, Louis headed straight for the showers before anyone else even registered they were dismissed, his steps hasty and his breathing heavy as he entered the locker room on his own. He wanted nothing more than to get home and into his bed to watch two or ten episodes of Grey’s Anatomy while eating potato chips. 

Fuck!

All of this was the doing of the stupid Omega residing inside of him, that much was clear at least. If he didn't know any better (and he did know better, certainly did know better!) he would say that he might be attracted to Harry, might even _want_ Harry. 

But that was absurd! 

Because Harry was an asshole Alpha brute with bad manners and arrogance and aloofness disfiguring his every facial expression and mutilating his every word. A smell alone didn't change any of that, even if Louis knew Harry’s scent was the best thing he had ever encountered to this day. There was just something exceptional about it …

But it was nothing. It meant nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Louis didn't spent his entire life denying and hiding his true gender to now let hormones and nature take over his body and soul.

He might have never felt that way before in any way, shape or form, but it didn't matter. Nothing but football mattered and that was the end of the story. Louis would use this weekend to pull himself together and ban any inappropriate thought regarding Harry from his brain. Maybe he would get blackout-drunk with Niall, which probably didn't constitute a healthy coping mechanism, nor a solution, but one that worked for sure at least. 

He would plan all of that later. For now, he needed to get out of here.

+++

Surprisingly, or probably not surprisingly, not a thing worked out like it was supposed to, and it all resulted in Harry Styles standing in front of his dorm door at nine o’ clock on Saturday morning, dressed in jogging bottoms and a Nike sweat jacket.

Louis supposed there was a high chance he was still cuddled up in his bed, sleeping, and currently weathering a horrifying nightmare, obviously. But then Harry spoke and this voice was something not even Louis’ deepest, darkest subconscious could make up.

“Morning,“ the Alpha said, sounding raspy, as if he himself had just woken up. There was a football tucked under his arm and Louis had a very, very bad feeling blossoming in his guts.

“Morning,“ he responded, eyes still lingering on the ball. The question in his tone was more than obvious.

“I thought maybe we could have a little game, just the two of us. I think we improved our partner work in yesterdays game, but there is still stuff we can do,“ Harry explained after a beat of uncomfortable silence in which Louis realised he himself was dressed in nothing but the boxers he slept in. How grand! Not that Harry seemed to notice, his gaze wandering across Louis’ chaotic, stuffed room almost interestedly. 

“Uhm,“ was the sound that left Louis’ lips eventually. The last thing he wanted was to spent any more time than necessary in Harry’s company, but maybe, just maybe, the boy had a point. Surely it wouldn't be the worst idea to spent an hour kicking the ball around between the two of them? They could impress Collins during Monday’s session and make it clear that he chose the right players for their game the following weekend after all. “I guess,“ Louis therefore added. Then: “How the hell do you know which dorm was mine?“

“There is a name on your door,“ Harry dead-panned, nodding at the sign. 

Louis furrowed his eyebrows. “So you walked through the whole building checking every door for my name?“

Harry smirked, and there was the familiar glimmer of pretentiousness in his eyes. “Maybe I did. Or maybe I just checked the address on your file in Collins office.“

Louis huffed in annoyance. “You’re a right Sherlock Holmes, aren't you?“ He asked sarcastically, then took a step back to get further back into his room, ready to close the door. “I’ll be out in a few.“

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?“ Harry wanted to know, smirk still in place.

“Don’t think so, no.“ Louis shrugged, trying for the nonchalance Harry had down to a science, and let the door fall in Harry’s slightly bewildered face.

What an amazing way to start off his Saturday, honestly. A special training session with the great Harry Styles himself. Louis sure felt honoured. 

Not.

+++

They went to a park right across the university’s main campus, which was unexpectedly empty. Probably because half of the uni students were still out cold, either hungover or enjoying their free day by sleeping in. Anyway, it left enough space for Harry and Louis to exercise, which was positive. 

They started off with a quick warm-up and tense silence, continued by a few plain and simple standard kicks, accompanied by even more tense silence. Louis had a blast! Why couldn't Harry have thought of bringing at least two other players along to make all of this a bit more bearable? 

“You know, eye contact and gestures are the key to good team play in football,“ Harry said eventually, after a period of time that felt like years to Louis in which they tried several manoeuvres Collins had deemed useful for their games. “It would be helpful if you at least looked in my direction every now and then.“

Louis chewed on his bottom lip as he turned around to face Harry, who had since pulled his hair up into a curly bun. He didn't look half as irritated as he usually did when he interacted with Louis, but still unhappy enough to let Louis know he was a disappointment.

The thing is, Louis knew what Harry was on about, knew that he was right. But since his almost-breakdown in the locker room the previous afternoon and the realisation that he maybe, for whatever goddamn reason, was slightly attracted to Harry in the worst possible way made it simply impossible to force eye-contact or even just look Harry’s way. Which seemed to be pretty obvious to Harry, too. 

“I’m sorry,“ Louis muttered petulantly, kicking a bit of dried grass around. 

Harry groaned. “You should be.“ And there it was, the charming disdain in Harry’s voice especially reserved for Louis. He had missed that!

Louis flipped him off, done with this shit and even more so with Harry’s fucking attitude. He shouldn't have left his bed, or his dorm room. How did he ever think it would be a good idea to go with Harry, of all people? Clearly he had had a proper blackout back then. 

“For your sake I hope you’re going to be on your best next Saturday,“ Harry called out to him as Louis pulled over the jumper he had taken off and deposited into the grass after their warmup, getting ready to flee the scene. “Otherwise I’ll make sure you won’t get another chance to play.“

Louis turned, one eyebrow raised and with a grin on his face that displayed more confidence than he possessed. In reality, his throat was clogging up. “And how would you do that, pray tell? You might be the most favoured team captain to ever exist, but you’re not the Coach, Styles.“

If he thought his words would leave Harry in any way impressed or shut down, he was wrong, of course. First and foremost because Harry always had an answer to everything, blatantly unable to hold his tongue. The words that left Harry’s mouth, though, were so unexpected that Louis felt the entire world crumble beneath his feet and himself reeling through the chaotic fall. 

“Don’t worry about that, Tomlinson. I think Collins will be more than happy to kick your sorry ass on the street once he finds out your illicit little secret.“

+++


	6. SIX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a feeling that the next chapter will be a lot more interesting than this one and I'm excited to write i already, hihi. Once again, thank you to everyone who commented or gave kudos, you don't know how much this encourages me to get the next updates out as quickly as possible. You are all so sweet and kind and I love you. Thank you. Now, please enjoy! 
> 
> Julia x

Silence had fallen over them. 

Louis possibly hasn't taken a breath in the last two minutes. Harry was still standing a few feet away from Louis, with his arms casually crossed and a self-satisfied grin on his face as he observed Louis. Louis, who's world was falling apart right then and there, who’s heart was racing in fear, who didn't know if he wanted to cry or scream or maybe finally, _finally_ punch Harry in the face — hard. God, the first thing he needed to do was breathe.

So he did.

Blinking his eyes he inhaled shakily. Then, with a voice thinner than he himself had ever heard it, he said: “What are you even talking about?“ It wasn't the most convincing string of words that could have come over his lips, to be honest.

“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,“ was Harry’s shrugging reply. How could he be so indifferent in the face of Louis’ clear desperation? If Louis ever thought Harry had any redeeming qualities, he certainly didn't anymore now. This boy was a self-centred, cruel monster with no regard for other peoples feelings, least of all Louis’. 

Louis swallowed, his eyes lowered to the ground. He couldn't stand to look at Harry any longer. “I really, truly don’t,“ he muttered. And then he did the thing he liked most to fall back on when confronted with overwhelming emotional distress: running away. He turned on the spot and sprinted back to the dorm buildings, not once throwing a glance over his shoulder at Harry’s form.

+++

He proceeded to not leave his room for the next three days.

+++

Louis was only minimally surprised when there was a loud, incessant knocking sound on his door on Tuesday evening. Even before he shuffled out of bed he had a pretty good idea of who would be standing on the other side, waiting to be invited in.

Sure enough, Niall’s blond hair was the first thing to catch his tired eyes. 

“Would you look at that — Louis Tomlinson is alive after all,“ Niall said as he pushed past Louis into the room and settled down in the desk chair, swirling it around so he could keep his gaze on Louis. Niall looked happy enough, but there was an edge to the curl of his lips. “I’ll try to not feel all too offended about the fact that you haven't called me back in three days.“ 

Louis sighed and closed the dorm door, certain that Niall wouldn’t want to leave anytime soon. Not that Louis wanted him to, anyway. Niall’s presence had, foreseeably, an amazing effect on Louis’ mood — he didn't feel quite as much as if the immediate doom was about to swallow him whole.

“Hey, Ni,“ he eventually got out. His voice was raspy, breathy, and he realised he actually hasn't talked to anyone since Saturday morning. That was, in hindsight, a little unhealthy, probably. 

Niall frowned, true concern now marring his features. “What the hell happened, Lou? Why haven't you messaged me? Why haven't you been to practice?“

Louis wasn't at all caught off guard by those questions, but that didn't mean they were any easier to answer.

Truth is, he hadn't done anything but alternate between sleeping and crying for the past three days, barely even getting up to use the bathroom or have a drink of water. As a result he felt gritty and over-tired, which was ridiculous in itself, considering how much sleep he got in the last days. Apart from that he looked a fucking mess and had the guiltiest conscience in the history of mankind for skiving his lectures and football practices. To top it all off, none of it had in any way solved the problem he found himself confronted with. Harry. Harry, knowing his secret. Harry, holding Louis’ future in his hands. Harry, ready to destroy everything in the blink of an eye. Harry, Harry, Harry. 

Louis didn't know what to do, because he didn't know Harry’s plan. If the Alpha had known about Louis’ true gender, why hadn't he confronted him about it sooner? Why hadn't he taken action against him? Why hadn't he snitched to Coach Collins?

Be that as it may, Louis was pretty certain that Harry would sell him out now. It hadn’t been Louis’ cleverest move to flee the scene on Saturday, but at the moment he hadn't seen any other way.

Louis had never felt so powerless before, not even the morning he went into heat for the first time, and subsequently found out he was an Omega. And that had been a shitty, shitty morning of feeling helpless and defeated non-stop.

Now, there also was the additional fear. It was not only the fact that he would be kicked off the team and probably out of university, too, for lying about his gender, if Harry decided to tell anyone about this ever. No … Louis fucking faked his doctor’s certificate and that was a crime. An actual crime he could get in real, proper trouble for. Louis liked to think that he had to much potential to waste away in jail, but mainly he just couldn't think about a prison sentence without being sarcastic about it, because in all honesty he was too terrified deal with this any other way. God, he really didn't want to go to jail. He tried Googling around for cases similar to his own, hoping to find any notations on punishments, but surprisingly there weren't even a handful of such instances and mostly they were based on entirely different grounds, so there was no real use in comparing his own situation to them anyway. 

In the end, Louis had figured he might as well just stay in his dorm room until the authorities would come to take him away, sure that Harry wouldn't waste time to rat him out. He hadn't even dared to call his mum, feeling too bad about making her worry about him once again.

Now that Niall was here, bringing with him the real world, Louis forced himself to snap out of his self-pitying mindset.

“I — I didn't feel well,“ he therefore stammered out, clearing his throat in the hope of getting his voice to sound stronger again. 

Niall nodded, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “That would explain why you are looking so terrible,“ he bantered, but overall remained serious in a way Louis hadn’t witnessed before. “You think you can make it to practice tomorrow, though? I’m pretty sure Collins is about to bust a nut because he is missing a forward. He really doesn't seem fond of the idea of letting Johnson play instead of you.“

And, well. That wasn't the scenario Louis had imagined over the last few days. He hadn't really thought he would still get to play the game, but then again, why wouldn't he? Harry obviously hadn't said anything, which meant that Louis’ secret and team position were still save. In fact, Harry had only threatened to reveal Louis’ identity should he screw up the following Saturday. Even though that wasn't exactly a cheerful prospect, right now, Louis had apparently truly nothing to fear. Apart from Harry having full control over him and using it however he pleases, of course.

Louis didn't know how he felt. He had been so sure that Harry would tell Collins the truth come Monday, he hadn't even considered other options and instead had chosen to hide himself away from the world. But now it was Tuesday, and nothing has happened at all and Louis had another chance. He could still play.

Honestly, that only raised an entire new set of questions. First and foremost: Why would Harry keep mum about this? He obviously hated Louis, he totally could use this piece of information to get rid of him once and for all. But he hadn’t. Was that simply for the joy it would give him to blackmail Louis into doing what he wanted him to do? Could that really be Harry’s reasoning?

Everything was fucking confusing. And the only way to find anything out at all was probably to confront Harry, ask him about his intentions head-on. Maybe there actually was something Louis could do for Harry to assure his silence on the matter. Maybe he could safe his future and all he had worked so hard for.

His heart was beating steadily in his chest for what felt like the first time since Saturday morning as Louis came to a silent decision. He looked up at Niall with a slim smile on his lips. “I’ll be back tomorrow, promise,“ he said, determined. “And I’m sorry for not calling or texting. It won’t happen again.“

Finally, a real and true Niall-Horan-Smile broke out on the Beta’s lips. “Great!“ He cheered, getting up from the chair to walk over to Louis, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “Also, you totally should let me know next time you get sick. I’ll cook you an Irish chicken broth that will make you feel better in no time at all. It’s an old family recipe, you know, and it works fucking miracles. My nan once cooked it for me after I —“ 

The good thing about Niall was that he was able to lift Louis’ spirits in every situation, even if it was as severe as the one he found himself in now. They settled themselves down on Louis’ unmade bed, in-between chocolate wrappers and gum papers, as Niall continued the story of this wondrous chicken broth cure his family is privy to and for the first time in days, Louis was actually able to let the tension in his muscles fade and take a deep, cleansing breath.

Maybe everything would turn out to be all right after all.

+++ 

Louis was more than early for practice the next afternoon, and not by accident, either. He actually hoped that he would maybe meet Harry beforehand and could use the encounter to have a quick conversation with him. Honestly, Louis just wanted to know what exactly the boy’s plan was. 

Weirdly enough, after his evening spent with Niall exchanging childhood stories and cooking Lasagna, he felt really good, relaxed and ready to face his problems head-on. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen anyway and Louis wasn't in the power to really change a thing about it. But he could at least check for himself where Harry stood and what he himself would have to prepare for. 

So, he entered the locker rooms about half past one, not really surprised to find them entirely empty. He knew for a fact, though, that Harry was overly punctual most days and around before the rest of the team. Louis counted on this today. 

He bypassed the time waiting for the team captain by getting changed and getting his locker in order, which had gotten horribly messy in the handful of weeks he had used it. He discarded of an empty deodorant can and threw out a questionable pair of worn socks that he didn't much fancy wearing ever again, washed or not. They smelled too vile, to be honest. 

Louis was in the middle of re-tying his shoelaces, because he felt like they had loosened up (it was more likely he was just searching for stuff to do while he waited for either Harry to show up or the rest of the team to trickle in), when the main door opened with a creaking sound that it hadn't been emitting a week ago, Louis was sure of that. He turned his head instantly and, when he realised it was actually Harry coming in, shot up from his crouched position on the floor and smoothed down his jersey.

Harry raised a questioning brow at him and Louis had to admit he was growing bored of that move. 

“Hey,“ Louis stuttered out, then coughed. He had to pull himself together for this talk or Harry would overrun him right away. 

The only silver lining on the horizon was that Harry seemed actually a little caught of guard to see Louis here, bright and early for practice, and even more so that he was talking to him. Louis decided to find courage in the fact.

“Tomlinson,“ Harry greeted back after a few seconds of silence had passed. He had walked towards on of the sturdy wooden benches near his own locker and set his bag down, ready to get changed himself. Louis was watching him with hawk eyes, just ready to open his mouth when Harry spoke up again. “Feeling better?“ There was a mocking lilt to Harry’s voice, of course. 

Louis swallowed. “Yes, thanks,“ he replied, with as much dignity as he could muster up. Silence fell again, uncomfortable as ever between the two of them. “Can we — can we talk about Saturday, maybe?“

Harry threw Louis a quick glance, eyes unreadable, before he pulled his white shirt over his head. Louis turned his head away, unable to stare at Harry’s defined upper body without loosing his composure — that much he was sure of now. Even though Harry was the world’s biggest asshole, he was extremely attractive and Louis’ messed up Omega mind wasn't strong enough to handle Harry’s good looks and his enticing scent all at once. It was bad enough that the Alpha smell was taking over the room already. 

“I guess,“ Harry said then, causing Louis to concentrate on their conversation, if you might call it that, once again. 

Louis nodded and with all the effort he could muster up, raised his eyes to Harry’s, meeting them straight on. His voice was strong. “What do you want from me? What am I supposed to do for you to keep my — my secret?“ 

“Play a good game this weekend,“ Harry shrugged, nonchalance pouring out of his every move and word as he got his skinny jeans off. 

“That’s it? Are you kidding me?“ Louis burst out. He could practically feel the blood pumping through his body, nerves returning with full force. Why was all this such a big joke to Harry? Couldn't he understand Louis in any way, comprehend even a little bit what all this meant to him?

Harry looked at Louis with a sincere frown etched onto his perfect features as he was busy shuffling into his football shorts. “What? What more would I want then for you to give your best? I want this team to win, that’s all I care about. It’s not really my intention to rat you out for your gender, okay? That is as long as you don't disappoint me. If you drag the team down, your out.“

And there it was. Even though Louis hadn’t held high hopes in any way that Harry could refer to any other secret Louis might have apart from his gender, it was still sobering to get a validation. Harry Styles knew he was an Omega. And apparently he didn't plan on using this information in any way. Which was kind of weird … Louis wouldn't trust him if he was the last person on earth, really, but it’s not like he got much of a choice now. 

Still he shook his head, unbelieving. “Why? Why would you keep that secret?“ 

Harry took a seat on the bench, not bothering to honour Louis with his full attention as he slipped his football shoes on. All the while, Louis had been standing in the same spot for the entire duration of this talk, back rigid and eyes focused. “It’s just not my place. I won’t interfere, so long as you don't fuck up. Simple as that.“ As soon as he was ready tying up his laces, Harry got up again, stretching himself for a moment. Just as Louis was beginning to think that there was a decent heart beating in Harry’s chest after all, the Alpha added: “Anyway, I have you in my hands either way. Even if I don't want anything now, you would still do whatever I ask of you, because you're aware I could spill the beans on your identity in a split second.“ As if he could sense the effect those words had on Louis, a slow smirk crawled across Harry’s lips. 

“You’re a fucking bastard,“ Louis snapped, flexing his fingers. Just when he thought all this would take a bearable course after all, Harry had to mess with him once more. It was frustrating, driving him insane! 

Harry’s smirk only grew wider. “Don’t think you should speak to me this way, darling,“ he purred in a disgustingly sweet voice, walking towards Louis with easy confidence. It made Louis shudder. 

“Don’t call me that,“ he exhaled, redness flashing in his cheeks. Harry was close enough to touch now and it was disconcerting. “How do you know anyway?“ Louis added, the question mostly an attempt to deflect Harry from advancing further, and more daring than he actually felt. It was important to know, though, because if Harry could figure it out what told Louis others couldn’t, too? He hadn't even thought about it before, but now it was such a glaringly obvious issue to him that he couldn't believe it didn't come to his mind before. 

Harry was stopping, finally, but he still stood too close to Louis for it to be comfortable in any way. And once again, to his dismay, Louis found himself looked upon from above. Why did Harry have to be so ridiculously tall, really? As Harry attempted to answer, the locker room door flew open, making both Louis and Harry flinch at the suddenness.

Well, Louis figured he wasn't getting his answer now, as Liam, Matt and a few midfielders shouted their greetings his and Harry’s way. Louis tried to smile at them, but feared it more resembled a grimace. He decided to get out on the pitch, run a few laps. He missed to days of practice after all — it wouldn't hurt.

He was pretty sure it were Harry’s eyes that burned a hole in his back as he exited the room.

+++

Coach Collins, to Louis’ relief, didn’t address his absence during the last two sessions with a single word. Instead, he seemed almost happy about his return, too much so to spent his time lecturing Louis about missing out on practices so shortly before an important game. It was more than fine with Louis, because honestly, Collins still scared the crap out of him, more since the talk he and Harry had with him the previous week. Louis’ Omega was all for staying away from the man.

They went right into technical trainings, focusing on tackles that would help them steal the ball from opposing players without committing an actual foul and risking penalties and punishments. Louis got partnered up with the other forward players, which was nice, because he could work concentrated without having to worry about Harry trying to come and get the ball from between Louis’ feet, which could easily result in another injury to Louis’ calf. Louis sure as hell hadn't forgotten the last incident!

In their practice game of the day, which the Coach had shortened to a single half-time, since he had deemed it more necessary to exercise the technical bits, Louis gave his very best. He made a serious attempted to play and work with Harry as much and as prudent as humanly possible, overcoming his apprehension and actually holding eye-contact with him when necessary, or flicking his arms this way and that to make Harry understand how he wanted to get the ball passed to him. 

It went surprisingly smoothly. Probably because Harry seemed just as intent on playing a good game and forming a strong team with Louis as Louis was. It only made sense — why else would Harry make such harsh threats about exposing Louis’ gender? Harry wanted his team to win: it was, after all, his first game as the captain. He counted on Louis’ help. What the boy didn't understand, though, was that Louis was already willing and prepared to give his all. The only thing Harry’s blackmailing achieved was stressing Louis out more. 

It didn't matter anymore, though. The words had been spoken, the intentions made clear. Louis would do whatever Harry asked of him and if for now all he needed to do was play a solid game of football then he was down with that. His gut only churned a little with the thought that they may very well loose on Saturday. He was pretty certain that Harry’s anger would be directed one way, and one way only: Louis’. 

He would deal with that when it came to it, Louis figured, forcing himself to remain positive.

+++

Their last practice session before the weekend game took place on Thursday afternoon. 

Coach Collins had mentioned before that they would take the bus down to Oxford University on Friday morning, where they would then face their first opponent on Saturday. After checking into their hotel they would go and check out the football pitch and playing conditions. Collins apparently saw no need for a stressful evening practice the day before the game, a plan that Louis fully supported, and so they would have the late afternoon and evening free for themselves to enjoy.

Training on Thursday was all the much harder, though. They added an extra hour to solely exercise passes and at the end of that, Louis felt raw and sore and in need of a long, hot shower. Which he couldn't take … their elongated practice made him run proper late for his evening English class anyway, so a quick rinse down was all he had time for. He wasn't even able to grab a snack in one of the Campus cafés, resulting in his stomach grumbling throughout the entire lecture. He caught several odd glances and was pretty sure his cheeks were burning red as he tried to swallow heaps of water in the hope of getting his tummy to at least calm down a little. 

Needless to say he was more than glad when his day finally ended and he found himself swaddled up in his blankets, a bowl of ramen noodles in his lap and a brand-new episode of Grey’s Anatomy up and running on his laptop screen. 

He tried not to think about the weekend ahead of him. Apart from his own wish to play a good game, there was still and always the thought of Harry’s threat lingering. He needed to be on his very best on Saturday. As he put his empty bowl aside he exhaled a deep breath. He _would_ be on his best on Saturday. He was born for this. He was a brilliant player, good enough to keep up with every Alpha and Beta even though he was an Omega. There was a reason he was here. He _deserved_ this! 

Setting his laptop on the small unused space of bed beside him, he turned and wiggled to get even more comfortable. The lights were out around him, the rest of the house silent. As he listened to Meredith’s ending monologue, stuffed full of wise words and witty remarks, he let himself drift off into sleep.

+++

He met Niall the next morning at half past ten and together, loaded with their sports bags and duffles containing a change of clothes and other overnight necessities, they made their way to the stadium, where the bus would be waiting to take them to Oxford. 

Niall was happily chattering away, obviously excited even though he most likely wouldn't get to play in tomorrow’s game, except if Romnell, the defender playing instead of him, should hurt himself. Louis couldn't help but share his enthusiasm. After all, this is what they’ve been working so hard for. They would finally get to play a real and important game, or, in Niall’s case, watch one from the sidelines. They were one step closer to their dreams of being professional players, weren't they? 

As they arrived at the bus, half the team was already gathered. Some boys had taken seats inside, but most of them were stranding outside still. The air was filled with joyous voices and it seemed like excitement was vibrating in the air here as well. Louis grinned brightly as he and Niall stuffed their bags into the intended compartment at the side of the bus, before they joined Adam, Mick and Liam, who were throwing a football around a little ways off the bus. They were greeted loudly and with friendly slaps on the backs, and then promptly found themselves in the middle of the nonsensical game.

“I need to at least move around a bit before I’m confined to the bus for the next hours,“ Liam explained to Louis sometime in between as Mick was running for the ball that had escaped him. 

Louis could understand that, actually. He himself wasn't one to sit still and quiet for long periods of time, always fussing and body thrumming with energy. It would take them around three hours to get to Oxford, which was bearable at least. 

When the last two team members, two of the defensive midfielders, arrived, Collins shouted for all of them to get into the bus. Ten minutes later they were on the road. Louis and Niall had found seats towards the middle, with Mick and Matt in front and Adam and Luke behind them. Liam and Harry were slightly off to their left side. Harry had trudged in as one of the last team members, with a beanie over his head, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses and headphones dangling from his ears. It was pretty obvious that he planned on spending the next hours asleep and cut off from the noise of the boys around him. Louis was all right with that, because this way he could pretend the Alpha wasn't there at all. 

In the end, the journey was over quicker than expected, passing by in a flurry of conversation and laughter. With Harry knocked out sleeping, Louis got to talk to Liam freely for once, finally learning a bit more about the goalkeeper. Liam was surprisingly funny and kind, almost soft and very accessible in character. Maybe Louis had judged him too soon and too hard on the single point that he was Harry’s best friend. Liam was, in fact, nothing like Harry. He was smiling where Harry would frown, joking where Harry would reply with heavy sarcasm, open and honest where Harry would be closed off and cold. Their friendship was an exemplary case of ‘opposites attract’, no doubt about that.

When the bus came to a standstill in front of a modern looking hotel, Coach Collins stood up from his seat in the front and grabbed for the microphone that was readily available for him on the dashboard of the bus.

“Simmer down, lads, and listen to me,“ he began, voice as usual commanding respect and obedience. Silence came about slowly and Louis noticed, out of the corner of his eye, not that he was actively looking, that even Harry pulled his headphones from his ears. “You will all be able to check into your rooms in a minute, and you can have an hour to yourselves, but pay attention now! For today’s plan: we will meet back here at half past three and drive over to the Oxford Alpha-Beta Football Stadium to get a feel for it, understood? After that we’ll grab dinner in town and you can spent your evening however you please, as long as it excludes sex, drugs and alcohol.“ Collins let the words sink in and Louis furrowed his eyebrows at the quiet sniggers that erupted here and there all over the bus, as if those words were meant in a joking manner. Surely none of the boys were actually planning on drinking and partying and spending their nights fucking around considering the important game they were about to play tomorrow? When Louis turned to face the Coach once more, he detected a distinct gleam in the Collins’ eyes, as if he had noticed the mirthful atmosphere, too, but didn't expect anything less of his team. Louis was left confused. 

Collins continued undisturbed. “Anyway, as always you get your rooms assigned to you in alphabetical order, so that I can keep up with where to find you at all times. No discussion and no nonsense,“ he added gruffly, when some voices began to pipe up. 

Louis’s mouth fell open in shock. His mind began skipping through the last names of his fellow players instantly, but he couldn't focus, couldn't get them in order, because there was only one name swirling around his head in a loop. Styles. T came after S, Tomlinson came after Styles. _Directly_ after Styles. _Fuck no!_ He prayed that what already seemed inevitable wouldn't happen, prayed that Harry would be put together with anyone else or even that he would get a single room because of his captain status. All of that would be all right with him if only …

Luck wasn't on Louis side, Louis realised. Adam got paired up with Luke, and then Harry’s name and Louis’ own were the next to leave the Coach’s lips. He felt his eyes widen, his breathing stagger, even though he new the possibility was imminent. Niall’s hand was gripping his thigh and it was grounding, somehow. “It’s only for a night,“ he said, smiling crookedly, but with an uneasiness in his eyes. 

Louis knew that, knew that it were only a few hours during the night. 

It didn't make the situation any better.

Apart from the obvious tension between him and Harry, and the knowledge that Harry held the power over Louis’ every word and action, would just have to snap his fingers, really, there was also the useless, meaningless and misguided attraction Louis felt whenever he was close to Harry. How was he supposed to catch even an hour of sleep when Harry’s scent would infiltrate his mind and soul with every breath he took? How was he supposed to stop his body from reacting inappropriately when alone with Harry, in a dark room in the middle of the night? 

All this sounded like the torture in the purest and most evil form, created especially for Louis.

Suddenly, the wish to play a good, strong game the next day seemed very out of reach.

+++


	7. SEVEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that took me a while. Sorry guys! I tried my best to update fast but things don't always work out how we plan them, do they? Anyway, I had high hopes for this chapter, I'm not sure it is what I wanted it to be. I kinda actually like the bits towards the end, but I had much higher expectations for the beginning and the middle part. Ugh. It was so perfect in my head, but I couldn't figure out how to get it down on paper. Anyway, let me know what you think, lovely people!
> 
> Julia x

The thing was that Louis simply hadn't found a way to get along with his traitorous body yet.

He had been alone in his and Harry’s shared double bed room for a while now. Sitting curled up under his blankets and with the TV playing some boring cooking show in the background he was busying himself scrolling through his phone and texting his sister, Lottie. 

Harry hadn't been in since they came back from having dinner in town, and it was a blessing, really. Even just Harry’s stuff lying around the room, half unpacked, made everything smell of musky, strong Alpha and it was entirely too appealing to Louis. He had to fight to keep his crazy thought under control, couldn't risk getting actually, full-on aroused by any of this! His head was spinning. Only imagining Harry himself in here as well, to top the stupid smell off, would probably make Louis crawl out of his skin. Should Harry ever return Louis would possibly have to retreat to the balcony and spent the night out there, sucking in the fresh, untainted air as if his life depended on it — because his life depended on it. 

This was pure, torturous hell!

The cook’s voice on the telly was loud, grating and so distinctively Alpha that Louis contemplated muting the show, his ears ringing with the deep timbre. But he didn't think he would be able to handle the silence any better, too afraid to get properly lost in his head. 

He blinked sluggishly, stared at the clock on his nightstand and figured that going to sleep at half past eight was slightly embarrassing. He was a grown man, not a child, god damn it! Harry wouldn't ever stop teasing him about this should he return to find Louis asleep before ten o’clock. On the other hand-side, being securely in the land of dreams already by the time Harry arrived back would certainly have its perks. For one, he probably wouldn't notice the other boy enter or his scent increasing in intensity, could also avoid any kind of argument and just sleep in peace, safe and sound until the next morning. Another plus: he’d be fresh and ready for the game if he managed to catch a few more hours of sleep than he originally planned for. 

He bit his bottom lip in thought when his mobile vibrated in his hand. Surprisingly, it wasn't Lottie texting him back about the troubles with her study group she was currently experiencing, but a new message from Niall.

_apparently some of the lads are having a get-together in matts room. come on over to mine n we’ll go 2gether!_

Louis scanned the words once, twice and then again, mouth opening in disbelieve. Didn't the coach explicitly tell them to refrain from partying, drinking and doing anything to jeopardise the upcoming game? What Niall just wrote sounded a lot like violating all those rules at once.

_i dont think thats what collins would want for us to do, niall! i really don't want any trouble._

Niall’s reply came instantly, of course.

_bohoo, lou! live a little. i’m waiting for u, so hurry tf up!!!!_

Louis wanted to do anything _but_ “hurry tf up“. He didn't want to go, simple as that. Two minutes ago he was considering turning in for the night and now here he was, on edge and torn, Harry’s freaking scent clouding his judgement. His phone vibrated again, incessantly, and a glance at the screen revealed that Niall sent him two more rows of exclamation marks. Damn it all!

It was with a pitiful grown that Louis stripped his cosy blankets off his body and walked to his duffle bag, searching for a fresh shirt to throw on. He switched from his comfy joggers back into the black skinny jeans he was wearing in the afternoon and ruffled up his hair so it wouldn't be too obvious he’d been lying in bed already. Every step towards the door seemed to physically hurt him. His unmade bed looked really fucking inviting. 

Again, his phone vibrated. Louis didn't have to check to know it would be either more exclamation marks or some strongly worded summons. With a heavy swallow he grabbed his keycard from the dresser by the door and pocketed it before leaving the room. 

As he walked along the empty corridor he read the numbers at the doors he passed, knowing that Niall’s room was at least somewhere on this floor. He didn't have to search for long — a door at the very end of the hallway flew open and out came Niall, blonde hair shockingly bright in the dim light and grin matching. 

“There you are; I was about to come and fetch you,“ Niall yelled upon spotting Louis, heedless of other hotel guests in the rooms around them trying to enjoy their evening. It was an action so typically Niall that Louis couldn't help but chuckle soundlessly.

“Good lord, calm down,“ he said, approaching Niall and letting himself be pulled into a crushing, one-armed hug. Niall smelled suspiciously of beer. Louis wished he had just ignored Niall’s messages, pretended to be asleep already. He just knew this night would lead to disaster. They weren't supposed to party and drink and stay up late — Collins had told them just hours ago.

“Let’s go,“ Niall exclaimed, though, exuberant and giddy. Louis didn't to bother putting up a fight, and instead let himself be dragged along. They walked up a set of stairs and then turned down a corridor to their right. There was one hotel room door wide open and, unsurprisingly, that was their destination. 

“Hey guys!“ It was Mick who spotted them first upon entering, greeting them affectionately as if they hadn't just seen each other two hours ago. Louis winced at the noise level and wondered how there hadn't been anyone here yet to chastise them for the disturbance. 

“You can close the door, mate, you’re the last ones anyway.“ That was Matt, speaking from where he was lounging casually on his bed, an easy smile on his lips. Louis did as he was told and hoped the heavy oak of the door would keep the noise from getting outside. He really didn't want to be caught by Collins, didn't want to risk his position, his place on the team. He wondered how everyone else was so readily careless with everything they had, with everything that was offered to them.

All of this screamed _trouble_ to Louis, but he was here now. There wasn’t much he could do. He certainly didn't want to be seen as a wimpy wuss by his fellow teammates. Still, it took effort and a deep breathe for him to submit and sit down next to Niall. He hoped his grimaced grin made him appear at least halfway happy and on-board with the ongoings. The ever-present tenseness in his shoulders didn't leave, though.

As Niall opened up two bottles of beer that were handed to him by Liam, one of which he pressed into Louis’ hands without much ado, Louis let his gaze wander. There weren't a lot of boys here, actually. He had been expecting most of the team, but in the end there were barely ten of them. Most were familiar and dear to him; he spotted Luke, Stan, Adam, Liam and Terence. Niall and Louis himself seemed to be the only first years around and Louis wondered how that had happened. How had they become the cool newbies? Because it was quite obvious that everyone here added up to the most accomplished, well-known and well-liked group of players on the footie team; the most popular ones. Louis didn't think he fitted in at all.

Lost in his thoughts, he took a sip of the bottle in his hand. The bitter taste of beer shook him to attention again. He couldn't drink. He wouldn't drink. God damn it, they had a game tomorrow. None of this should be happening.

But it was. And nobody but him seemed to give a shit. Everyone was smiling, laughing, sipping happily from bottles themselves. Louis heart was beating. He wanted to leave but something was holding him back. 

He set his bottle down beside him and leaned closer towards Niall, trying to understand what he and Terence were talking about. A door fell shut behind him, and he jerked, the sound entirely unexpected. Turning around, he saw Harry walking towards the rest of the boys. He must be coming from the bathroom. Louis rolled his eyes at his own inattentiveness. Of course Harry would be here, too, had probably been here all along while Louis had gotten time to himself in their room. He shouldn't have left the boy’s short absence unquestioned. If Liam was here, it had been most likely that Harry would only just linger around the next corner.

Harry didn’t pay any attention to Louis, didn't even graze him with a look as he made his way over to the group on the floor. Well, at least that was expected. Before taking a seat, however, he directed his eyes towards the boys at large. “You know I wholeheartedly support this kind of stress-relieve before an important away game. It was a tradition introduced by our former captain, Ron, for a select few players, and I’ve decided to continue it in his honour.“ There were some cheers erupting here and there, bottles clinking. “Still, I don't want anyone to overdo it, which means two beers is the limit for each one of you. Understood?“ Harry’s voice was light enough and he was smiling, but there was a serious glimmer residing in his eyes. 

Louis had to at least be grateful that Harry was still acting kind of responsible. Although, if he himself were the captain of this team he would order everyone to bed instantly. There would be no gatherings, no music, no beer. Who brought the beer anyway? 

His thoughts were interrupted once again as the music was getting louder and the boys huddled closer together, forming a circle. Even Matt had joined them on the carpeted ground from his position on his bed now. Someone was talking about a game, but Louis wasn’t listening. Harry had settled down directly across from him and he was busy finding a point to focus his eyes on that wasn't Harry’s cutting jawline or his strong arms or that silly little curl that had escaped his bun. 

“ _Never Have I Ever_ it is,“ Adam said then determinedly when the discussion eventually calmed down. Louis’ stomach dropped. “We haven't played that in a long time. I want to know what shit all of you’ve been up to over the summer.“ 

Louis could see various filthy smirks erupt around him. Everyone seemed all too ready to play this game — this stupid game, might Louis add. Even Niall was excited, nodding along with a grin that had been previously unknown to Louis; cheeky and bold. Now Louis really wanted to leave. He knew exactly where this was leading. They weren't pre-schoolers asking about butterflies and lollipops and first kisses. No, this would escalate quickly and he knew with what kind of questions they’d end up with. Apparently nobody minded sharing private stuff about themselves, though. Just him, it seemed. Louis wasn't a prude and he wasn't self-conscious, it was just … mainly, he hadn't much to share. And he really didn't need everyone to know this. It was private and Louis was a private person — no shame in that, was there?

“Captain, how about you start us off?“ Liam said and everyone nodded in agreement. Harry smirked, as he always did. His question, to Louis relief, was a simple one. “Never have I ever fallen asleep in the cinema.“ The boys around groaned in exasperation.

“That’s so lame, Harry,“ Mick chuckled as he took a swig of his beer. Almost everyone followed suit, Louis included. Harry just quirked his lips, choosing not to defend himself.

They continued on with easy, casual questions. Louis drank reluctantly whenever something applied to him. He may not like this game, but he wasn't a cheater and he wasn't dishonest. Well, most of the time anyway.

To Louis’ dismay it was Niall who upped the ante at last. His statement, “Never have I ever had sex in a friend’s bed“, left Louis slightly flabbergasted at the bluntness. So he had been right — this is what it was amounting to. Louis figured he could at least be glad that he wouldn't be getting to drink much that night, then. His bottle remained on the ground.

Mick and Matt were the only ones to drink and, of course, got instantly bombarded with questions. They got talking about teammates, friends and girls that Louis had never heard of before, so he couldn't say he was particularly interested. 

Tomorrow’s game was constantly on his mind.

When the conversation had calmed down it was Louis turn. He could feel heat rising to his cheeks. He never had any fun or interesting statements to make, so he hesitated. The feeling of everyones’ eyes on him made him uncomfortable. “Never have I ever kissed a good friend,“ he got out eventually, voice soft and raspy. It was nothing scandalous, nothing really interesting, but it was okay. Nobody took a swig, which was actually surprising, but also resulted in Louis himself having to have another drink. Which, great!

After that, questions really picked up. Louis got to drink less and less, all the while busy to come up with halfway interesting statements for when it was his turn again. Apart from him, Harry, Liam and Matt were the only one’s to not go entirely overboard with their _Never Have I Ever’s_. Everyone else was totally in their element and had the fun of their lives asking the most personal and intimate questions. There was stuff like “Never have I ever watched porn with someone else“, “Never have I ever taken someone’s virginity“, “Never have I ever had sex with someone ten years older than me“ and “Never have I ever had some kind of sexual encounter in a pub bathroom“. Louis was slightly disgusted when almost everyone drunk to this questions, but him. At one point he was tempted to join them, simply to give the allusion that he actually wasn't a blushing virgin — but he was, embarrassingly enough, and he didn't feel like lying. He didn't want anyone to think he had “slept with someone within two hours of meeting them,“ because he hadn't and he wouldn't and that wasn't him. He wouldn't pretend otherwise. 

Maybe he imagined the stares he was getting with every other sip he didn’t take, every other statement he didn’t confirm. Why was it so important anyway? He wasn't as experienced as everyone else — so what? He didn't need to be ashamed of that. 

The next time he actually got to drink was when it came to be Liam’s turn once again. “Never have I ever been hit on in the last month,“ the boy said, and apart from Niall, Terence and Jonah, one of the year three Alpha midfielders, Louis was the only one to drink. Because even though he didn't enjoy it he considered his uncomfortable talk with Dean as the Beta hitting on him. Even with this sip his bottle was still not finished, while everyone else had started on their second one already. He wondered how much longer they would have to keep this game up. 

When he let his gaze wander over the boys around, he couldn't help but focus on Harry. Harry, who seemed tense all of a sudden, his hand gripping onto his beer bottle tightly, his knuckles turning white with the strength of it. There was an edge to his expression and he was staring straight at Louis, eyes dark. Louis blinked back in confusion, wondering instantly what he’d done wrong now. His heartbeat felt like a weird flutter against his ribcage. 

The next statement was made and both of them turned away to look at Terence.

The moment was gone as quickly as it had happened, but Louis had a hard time pushing the image of Harry’s burning stare from his mind. 

Amazingly, the game was finally coming to a close after that. The most daring statements had been made and some explicit stories had been shared, and although Louis had been uncomfortable through it all, the beer he’d had managed to get him to loosen up, made him smile and laugh at least every once in a while. 

It was Niall, funny, charming, lovely Niall who, in the end, stabbed a knife right into Louis’ back. Maybe that was a bit dramatic. Louis didn't blame Niall. But it was Niall who had the honour of making the last statement and Louis, having observed his friend’s glee throughout the game, should have known that it wouldn't be an innocent one to round off the game. 

“Never have I ever fantasised about anyone in this room,“ Niall said, his Irish lilt growing stronger with the almost two beers he’d had. He raised his eyebrows suggestively, smirk playing on his rosy lips. 

Louis’ swallowed. His eyes flitted around nervously, his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip. He couldn't be the only one, surely … But no one was making any move to get their bottle, instead just staring around as gleefully as Niall had. Niall surely imagined this to be more interesting.

He could just lie, Louis figured. He didn't need to be honest, nobody would know. He swallowed again, lifted his bottle anyway. There was movement across from him and suddenly, he didn't need to look to know it was Harry who was joining him in drinking. Harry, of all fucking people. Louis hand began to tremble.

The beer ran down his throat burning like fire. He was hot, suddenly. Everything was hot. Slowly, he raised his eyes, and that was probably the stupidest thing he could have done. He knew it, even before he did it. His eyes met Harry’s over the bottoms of their bottles. He wondered, in the back of his mind, if anyone noticed. Louis felt like he revealed so much of himself in this split-second of eye contact. He must be so obvious, so painfully, embarrassingly obvious, he thought, with Harry’s green eyes still boring into his. Harry knew. He must know, now, Louis was so sure of it. Must know that Louis had thought about him, imagined him, could barely contain himself whenever Harry’s scent flared up. Fucking hell! How would he ever look Harry’s way again without sinking into the ground, red-faced and breathless and full of shame?

The last remnants of beer left splattered over the carpet as the bottle slipped from Louis’ slack grasp, effectively shaking him up and out of his thoughts. Louis barely cared, absently righting the bottle. Heat was rising to his cheeks again. The gloominess of the room was a blessing. He didn't dare look in Harry’s direction again. 

It was weird, that all this had happened in only a handful of seconds, when it had appeared like slow-motion to Louis. When he finally got his heartbeat under control again and was able to take a shaky breath, the rest of the boys were grilling Harry on who of them he had fantasised about, but it was in a bantering manner, nothing serious about it. Harry didn't say a word though, only smiled secretively and stuck his tongue out at some of them. There were some questioning looks directed Louis’ way, especially from Niall, but he ignored them, and luckily they didn't harass him for it, didn't insist on him to spill the beans. 

He shouldn't have taken a sip. 

+++

They had spread around the room after the end of the game, formed groups of two or three and started their own conversations. Louis went to the bathroom to get some tissues for the floor, in an attempt to at least mop some of the beer up. It didn't matter much, though. The carpet was dark and stained already — what harm would a few more drops of beer do?

Done with his work, he settled in one of the only chairs around and checked his phone, not really interested in getting involved in any of the conversations. He wanted his bed and nothing else. His head was swimming, but he wasn't sure if it was because of the alcohol or because of Harry’s look still haunting him. 

Lottie had texted him back, but Louis couldn't find it in him to reply. It was almost midnight anyway, and he was sure she either was out now, partying herself, or in bed and ready to sleep. He didn't want to disturb her either way. 

At one point Liam came over, bringing with him another bottle of beer. He smiled kindly, completely unaware of Louis’ inner turmoil. “Noticed you hadn't taken your second allowed bottle yet,“ he said, a joking edge to his voice. Louis smiled and thanked him, but honestly didn't feel like drinking any more beer. 

They talked for a few minutes, before Liam excused himself to go to the bathroom. Louis looked after him, feeling lost and out of place. The second bottle was gone from his grip, suddenly, and for a moment he feared he had let that one fall to the ground as well. But there was someone next to him, someone who smelled all too familiar. 

“It’s only one bottle for you,“ Harry muttered and he was too close, much too close. Louis’ tummy swooped, his skin prickled, and everything was too much again. Sensory overload. Harry smirked when Louis cautiously turned his head. His breath hit Louis’ face, smelled of beer, like Niall’s had even before they got here, and it suddenly occurred to Louis that even though they were only allowed to have two bottles each in this room, under Harry’s supervision, most of them had probably had drinks before and would maybe even have drinks after. Not for the first time Louis wondered what kind of game all of them expected to play tomorrow. But then those thoughts were wiped away because Harry was still there, next to him and close and firm and big and Alpha. Louis felt _stuff_ , felt _things_ he’d never felt before. 

He really didn't want to and he wasn't proud of it at all, but once again he bolted. His blood was rushing through his veins as he left the room with fast steps and without throwing another word or glance back. He followed the way he had come with Niall before, jogging to his room with a racing heartbeat. 

Only when he was there, the door closed behind him, it occurred to him that he wasn't actually safe, wouldn’t actually find peace here. Because this was Harry’s room, too.

+++

Louis was sitting on his bed, jeans on the ground, hair a mess, body tense, when the tell-tale sound of a keycard slipping into the door rang through the otherwise eerily silent room.

He didn't need to turn to know that Harry had entered with silent steps and easy breathing, because his scent was overwhelming. Even more so than usual. There was something in there, something new, spicy and sharp and delicious. Louis eyes watered. He had never felt so helplessly overwhelmed with his Omega nature, not even during all those terrible heats he had gone through alone. This was something else. This was losing control in another way, a more dangerous way. His entire body was shaking.

“I won’t do anything to you,“ Harry said from somewhere behind him. He sounded gentle. Louis had never heard him like this before. Still, he couldn't respond. His eyes flitted to the balcony door. But he couldn't flee again, couldn't honestly consider sleeping out there. It was ridiculous, everything about this was _ridiculous_.

“I won’t do anything to you,“ Harry said again, closer now. A warm hand settled over Louis clothed shoulder. He couldn't tell if he wanted it to stay there forever or if the wanted to rip it away instantly. “If you don't want me to.“

Louis’ stomach dropped. He felt hazy, out of it, shaken. There was a dampness between his legs originating from his butt. He wanted to cry. This never happened before, not with anyone. Louis didn't know how to act, didn't know what to say. He felt paralysed. 

Harry’s hand tightened, but not to the degree of painfulness. “Tell me to leave you alone and I will.“

Louis whimpered, and it sounded pathetic to his own ears. Harry’s hand on his shoulder, though, clenched down. 

“Please,“ Louis whispered, then swallowed. He blinked rapidly in an attempt to keep his eyesight from turning fuzzy. 

Harry stepped around the bed now, finally took a stand in front of Louis. His hair was messy, the bun long gone and curls now freely falling. He was pale and perfect as ever, but there was a pink tint to his cheeks, almost invisible in the weak glow emitted by Louis’ bedside lamp, the only source of light in the room. 

“Please what?“ Harry responded, voice deep and rumbly, hands reaching out to steady Louis’ trembling form. 

Louis was sure he couldn't move if he tried to, his legs feeling like jelly. He was at Harry’s mercy, wouldn’t, couldn't defend himself in any way if the Alpha decided to do anything at all to him, with him. He had never been in such a vulnerable position before.

“Please don’t“, Louis babbled, voice breathy and shaky. Nervousness was tying up his throat, making his voice climb higher. “I don't — I never — I’m not.“ He couldn't concentrate enough to form a coherent sentence, couldn't even speak the words that were running through his mind on loop: _I want to, I want_ you _, but I can’t, because I can’t give myself to someone who hates me. I want to, I want to so much, but I can’t._

Harry’s eyes rested heavily on him, for a second and then another, before he stepped back. His hands fell away from where they had rested on Louis’ arms, leaving behind clammy coldness and goosebumps. “Okay,“ he said, simple as that, voice still rough but eyes much clearer, much more focused. Louis still couldn't help but cower. “I won’t touch you, I won’t harm you. I promise, Louis.“ 

There was a beat of breathless silence. Harry smiled a small, unreadable smile, before he turned to walk into the bathroom. The moment was broken as soon as the lock clicked shut — the shower began running. 

Louis felt his desperation subside gradually. There were so many reasons to not believe in Harry’s words, so many reasons to stand up and leave the room in order to protect himself. He didn't, however. Maybe it was the fact that Harry had used his actual name for the first time since knowing him or the sincerity with which he had spoked or even the indistinguishable smile he had sent Louis’ way just a minute ago. 

In the end it didn't matter.

Louis felt like crashing, like falling down from the highest of highs with no chance to grab onto something, to hold himself up. His body collapsed in on itself, his head hitting the pillows both hard and unexpectedly. He was still shaking, he was still _leaking_ , but emotional exhaustion took over him like a wave and he was pulled under without a chance to fight for consciousness. 

+++

When he woke up in the middle of the night with his blanket up to his neck, wrapped securely around him, he tried not to think about that. Maybe couldn't, anyway, still too undone by the events of the evening. He wriggled to get comfortable and fell into a dreamless sleep once more.

+++

They won the game with utter ease the next day, which seemed to surprise no one but Louis. 

They played hard and fast and strong, agile and quick-minded as ever. Although the Oxford team wasn't bad or weak in any way, some of the players exceptionally good even, in Louis’ humble opinion, they didn't stand a chance. 

For the first time Louis realised how united they were under Harry’s lead, what a presence their Alpha captain had, how the air around him seemed to pulsate with positivity and power. 

When the referee blew his whistle after 90 minutes, Louis could barely turn his eyes from Harry’s cheering, happy, laughing person. The team gathered around him, Louis more hesitantly than everyone else. He had never seen Harry so openly high-spirited and relaxed. Since their first meeting there had always been a certain stern tension about him. And even though now Harry was sweaty and muddy and exhausted, Louis found him to be more beautiful than ever before. 

Hell, he was in to deep. He hadn't even noticed that he was on the downfall until now, when it was clearly too late. There was something there and Louis didn't think there was much use in denying it any longer. 

Harry was radiant, magnificent and Louis wasn't strong enough to resist this incessant pull he was feeling, and had been for a while now. 

But it was useless, all of it. Because although there had been something last night, some kind of spark, heat and burning and longing, maybe, it was long gone and forgotten now. Harry hadn't even so much as spared a look for Louis this morning as he exited to room to grab himself breakfast and throughout the game they, although playing good, didn't manage much contact between them. 

It was probably better this way. Louis shouldn't have had any expectations anyway. Had he really thought something between them was going to change just because Harry had had a few drinks the past night and Louis had been the closest Omega available for a possible quick, meaningless fuck? Had he thought that Harry backing off, letting Louis decide and choose and call the shots had been anything other than Harry acting like a decent fucking human being?

Of course not.

Obviously. 

When Harry walked past him to get to the locker rooms, probably in a hurry to get out of his gross jersey and shorts, he didn't even acknowledge Louis’ presence.

It shouldn’t hurt. 

Shouldn’t. Fucking. Hurt.

+++

At least Louis left Oxford with the feeling of having played a good game and sure that he had convinced Coach Collins of his talent. What did it matter if everything else had ended up shittily at best?

+++


	8. EIGHT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys! I'm so, so sorry for the late update! I tried to get this out sooner, but some of you will have heard me complain about the writers block I was experiencing, on tumblr or wherever. That really sucked! Weirdly enough I eventually realised I was only able to get shit done in my bed. Be that as it may, here it finally is, the new chapter. I actually like it and I hope you do too! (Also, thank you @ Niall for the Spotify Playlist - that helped me along greatly!)
> 
> Julia x

After game weekend everything started to appear rather dull to Louis. Which, upon further consideration, might be a blessing in disguise, because Louis would take numbness and indifference over hurt feelings and longing for someone he can’t have any day! 

He was maybe exaggerating, too, because what he was now calling dull had actually been his normal every day life just a week ago. The only thing that had changed was Louis’ perspective on things. His perspective on Harry, in particular. 

It wasn't like Louis had held high expectations for anything to happen between the both of them, couldn't even imagine what that would be like, anyway. Still, now that there had been that spark, that moment between them, Louis found it hard to just go back to ignoring Harry. Where previously he could guard himself simply by remembering the revulsion and disgust he felt at Harry’s behaviour and attitude, now it was like all the disdain he held for Harry had vanished into thin air and Louis was left with an altered, almost unbefitting image of the team captain. It was like he could only see the positive things, no matter what. 

And that was honestly ridiculous, because if one thing had stayed the same for certain it was Harry’s arrogance and despicableness that showed every time he and Louis were encountering one another. If Louis had thought that, even if Harry didn't feel even to some extent what Louis began to feel for him, Harry would at least manage to be a better person, civil, when speaking with Louis, it was in vain. Truthfully, those wishes had been shattered on the pitch in Oxford already and, rather unsurprisingly, nothing had changed back in Manchester. Harry was happily ignoring Louis completely and if he was, in the rarest cases, forced to pay attention to him anyway, he did so with the utmost boredom and coldness, not trying to hide the displeasure from showing on his face even for a second. 

If Louis’ heart hurt a little more whenever Harry’s blank, unfeeling stare was directed his way then no one had to know, though!

Luckily, their newest feud didn't really interfere with practice — especially since the team was mixed up again, players put into different combinations for every practice game they were doing now so that the Coach could check out his favourites for the next game, which was fast approaching. It was at least something Louis could put his focus to. And maybe the distance from Harry would help him to get his clearly confused heart back in line as well. 

And so they continued. As if nothing ever happened. If Harry had his way, that surely was what he would claim anyway: that nothing ever happened between the two of them that one and only night in Oxford. Nothing happened. 

It was a lot harder for Louis to accept that.

+++

To add to Louis’ subdued mood he realised a week after the first game that his next heat was coming up. His suppressants left him on a three-month-cycle, but as far as Louis was concerned once a year would do, too. Or never, for that matter. He couldn't do much to change the inevitable, of course, and so spent half his Saturday planning around the three to four days he would have to spent locked into his rooms, indisposed, with scent neutralisers clouding the air so that none of his dorm mates would notice anything unusual going on. At least it would be the last heat of this year, so there was that. 

He decided, with his forehead in crinkles and while biting the top of his pencil, to fake a stomach bug, which was his go-to excuse. Since he hadn't had to use it yet in university it was inconspicuous enough and made for the perfect illness that would get people to stay away — nobody enjoyed the company of someone puking their guts out, especially if there was a high risk of infection, as it was pretty standard with these kind of sicknesses.

Scribbling down his notes Louis was remembered how much work it actually was to plan out those stupid fucking heats. He had to think of everything in advance, because the smallest misstep could cost him everything. And with everything he literally meant _everything_. He had to check on his supplies of lube, scent neutralisers and condoms, had to look if he had brought his vibrator and butt plug from back home, which he fervently hoped, because he would rather shoot himself in the face than go out to buy substitutes in town and there certainly wasn't time to risk an online order. He had to put out a ton of easily accessible food, nothing in need of being cooked or heated, and lots and lots of fluids in reaching distance. 

He couldn't deny that he was nervous, and not in the good, anticipating way. He never once had to spent a heat entirely on his own, meaning without his mum around to bring him something hot and tasty to eat, to ensure he was drinking enough water and juice or hand him a wet towel to clean himself of in a moment of lucidness. It would certainly be hard to go through all of this on his own — during most of his heats he was so out of it that he barely noticed the time passing, too torn between the blissful pleasure and the scorching, never-ending need and want he was experiencing. It would probably be best if he set a couple of alarms to remind him to at least have a drink every now and then in between of all his striving for glorious release.

Just thinking of himself in this helpless, vulnerable, useless condition made colour rise in his cheeks, mainly out of embarrassment, but also out of anger. He wondered, not for the first time, if the whole experience truly would be something else entirely if he ever went through it with an Alpha. According to every person he had ever heard talking about this and every internet post he had ever read in regard to the topic the answer was a resounding _yes_. Louis wasn't sure if he’d ever find out for himself. There was a part of him, a part he gladly liked to deny, that yearned for an Alpha, of course. It was in his very nature to want exactly that; a strong, protective lover, a knot. But then there was his heart, filled with his hopes and dreams and wishes for the future and if anything at all was ever supposed to come from his football career, an Alpha just wasn't in the cards for him anytime soon. 

Louis had long ago decided that this was a sacrifice worth making. 

That was before he met Harry Styles, though.

Shaking his head abruptly, he cleared his mind from the direction his thoughts were trying to take. There was planning to do, a shopping list to work off, a room that needed to be prepped. Every minute not wasted on thinking about Harry Styles resulted in sixty seconds of sanity that Louis gained. 

+++

Maybe it was a bit stupid of Louis to attend his Tuesday morning lecture. His calculations, which were of course spot on, because Louis couldn't allow himself any mistakes, told him his heat would start sometime in the early hours of Wednesday. He didn't feel it necessary to skip more lectures and seminars than he would have to, though, and a good twenty-four hours before the beginning of his own, personal hell he should be just fine leaving his dorm room. 

He knew, obviously, that his smell grew stronger in the days before his heat, but until now he had found his suppressants to be very useful and concealing in that regard. He had not once landed in trouble because someone got a sniff of a scent that Louis as a “Beta“ wasn't supposed to ooze. 

That is why he felt perfectly at ease in his seat towards the back of the lecture hall, jotting down notes the Shakespeare tragedies they were talking about this morning. Louis was immersed in his lecturer’s voice, for once actually following along the discussion with great interest, as Shakespeare had always been a well-known favourite of his. Although Louis still had problems upon deciding whether Hamlet was a play he actually enjoyed or not. 

He didn't notice someone settling down beside him until there was a curious sniffle coming from the place to his right. Louis jerked slightly, his pen slipping over his paper and leaving a trail of wet blue ink. His eyes, flitting up, met those of Dean, the Beta. Dean, who seemed nice enough, but also slightly obsessed with Louis, honestly. Like, couldn't the boy take a hint? Louis had talked himself out of every single encounter the both of them had had since the start of the semester, always hurrying to get away and never agreeing to any of the proposed coffee-meetings. 

“Hey Lou,“ Dean said, a slightly apologetic lilt to his tone. Louis hadn't realised they had entered the nickname basis already. And anyhow, it was the middle of the lecture — where was Dean even coming from?

Instead of asking any questions Louis uttered his own greeting before returning his attention to the professor. Dean didn't seem to care much.

“Do you smell that?“ The Beta said, and once again there was the sniffling sound. Louis wrinkled his nose in distaste. It had a crude ring to it, someone scenting the air so shamelessly and without regard for the person they were unknowingly molesting in doing so. At least that’s how Louis felt. Even a smell was something personal, wasn't it? 

“No,“ he answered, voice clipped. He didn't even attempt to search for an unusual smell wafting around in the room. It wasn't any of his business. 

Dean, fortunately, let it go, too. He remained next to Louis for the rest of the lecture, pretending to listen to the lecturer, but not once writing any information they were given down. Louis found it easy enough to ignore him, even if the boy repeatedly pushed his leg up to Louis.

It was only after, when Louis followed Dean outside the hall, since he hadn't much of a choice, that the boy picked up their previous conversation — if one could call it that. “Don’t you think it smelled like an Omega in heat? Or like, approaching heat, I guess.“ He said, and Louis tried to hide the way his mouth dropped half-open in surprise. “It was a nice smell. But honestly, who would be stupid enough to attend lectures when so close to their heat? That’s really irresponsible. Think of all the people the scent must rile up. Like, if even I could smell it, think how the poor Alphas in the room must have felt.“

Louis could feel his eyes forming into slits and anger bubbling in his stomach. If he hated one thing more than anything it was how Omegas were always made responsible for every little thing. He would like nothing more than to walk away from Dean, but his pride prevented him from doing so. “Maybe the person didn't want to miss out on learning,“ he disagreed, fiercely. “Also, nobody forced you to sniffle around like a dog in search of prey.“ The words slipped out of his mouth before he could bite his tongue. It was a touch too much, probably, if Dean’s grouchy expression was anything to go by.

“It’s not my fault they were stinking up the room,“ he responded, and it was clear in the line of his jaw that he had to hold himself back from snapping at Louis in return. It left Louis feeling weirdly accomplished.

In for a penny, Louis thought, and didn't bother to hide how irritated he was. The corridor around them had emptied out significantly, only a handful of strays left behind, so Louis didn't think it necessary to lower his voice. “It’s not their fault for smelling a certain way, either. It’s fucking nature doing that and messing with them and everyone around. Also, what — suddenly they stink? A minute ago you were about to drool.“ 

Dean looked blatantly shocked now. It took him a beat before he opened his mouth again and Louis wished he just wouldn’t, wished he would just bugger off. “No need to get so prissy, Lou,“ he said. “It doesn't matter anyway, does it? Let’s grab a coffee or something.“ 

Louis wanted to rip his hair out. This boy was unbelievable, and not at all in a good way! A week ago Louis had thought Dean’s only negative attributes where his annoying persistence and his inability to understand a rejection when faced with it. Now, he realised there was altogether other side to him as well: a judging side, a side not able to feel empathy for the people around him, a side that was rude and vulgar in a very simple-minded way. Louis was, now more than ever, glad that he didn't give in to Dean’s forceful advances. 

“I don't feel like it,“ he therefore replied, holding it short and to the point. Apparently, that wasn't what Dean had in mind though. 

“O, come on, now. How many times are you planning on rebuffing me? Playing hard to get was fun the first few times around, now it’s just boring.“ 

Well, that was a bit unexpected. Did Dean really think all of this was just a stupid game to Louis? How was this Louis’ life? How was it him that always had to deal with the most asshole-y kind of people the world had to offer up?

“Have you ever entertained the possibly that I’m simply not _interested_ in you?“ Louis’ asked him, sarcasm flooding his voice. Sarcasm was Louis’ thing. If Dean thought he could pressure Louis into a date then he had another thing coming. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get —“

There was a hand gripping his arm, suddenly. Louis let his eyes fall to the place where Dean was holding him in back. Rage ran through Louis’ body, hot and livid and unstoppable. He might be small and slender, might give off the impression that he was easily defeated, but hell, Louis was feisty and he was raised to stand up for himself, to defend himself. He wouldn't hesitate to fight dirty and he fucking certainly _wouldn’t let anyone treat him like this!_

“Take your fucking paw of me and piss off!“ This times, Louis’ voice was full of pure and uncontrolled fury. He didn't know if his hands were shaking out of anger or emotional distress. 

“What if I don’t?“ 

“What the hell is wrong with you?“ Louis spat out. Surely his face must be red by now, his forehead in crinkles, his mouth in a straight, thin line. 

A weirdly self-satisfied smirk took over Dean’s face. “I know where the smell was coming from. The one of the Omega close to heat.“

Louis’ heart stopped and then his raw survival instinct kicked it. “What are you even talking about? I don't care about some Omega’s heat,“ he lied, fighting to keep his voice steady and convincing. “Just let me go already.“ He pulled at the arm captured in Dean’s clasp but it was a useless effort. The grip was harsh and Louis wouldn't be surprised if it would leave behind a purple bruise. 

“I don't know why you're hiding your true identity from the world, Louis, but if you want me to keep mum, you'll have to do something in return for me.“ Dean looked downright malicious now and Louis couldn't explain how he had ended up here, trapped by a Beta a head taller than him apparently knowing all about his secret and ready to expose it all if Louis didn't relent to his bidding. Was he being _blackmailed?_

A helpless, desperate whimper crawled its way out of Louis’ throat before he could find the strength to hold it back. This was too much, suddenly. He was overpowered and more vulnerable than ever with his heat so fucking close. He needed to get away from this toxic person. Another whine escaped him. 

How was it that from one moment to the next everything was at stake like this? 

“Tomlinson, what the _fuck_ is going on here?“ 

Louis’ eyes flew open and in retrospect he couldn't say when exactly they fell shut in the first place. For the last days he had cursed the owner of the voice that was echoing down the hallway to the depths of hell — now, he had never been more grateful to hear it. Harry might not be a friend to him, but Louis didn't doubt that he would help Louis out of a situation like this. 

And for once, Harry didn't disappoint him.

Before Louis could even muster up a clear enough mind to formulate a response Harry was upon them, his form looming not only over Louis, but over Dean as well. His appearance was screaming of Alpha and power. While he looked positively livid, his eyes blazing with energy, his wrath wasn't directed Louis’ way — a clear exception that felt astonishingly good.

A second later, Dean was on the floor, struck down by Harry’s balled fist, and Louis was staggering to find his balance after having been grabbed so tightly by the Beta that he had lost all feeling in his body. His head was swimming and somewhere deep, deep down he had the inkling that maybe, just maybe, this entire overwhelming situation had jump-started his heat. He was certainly more feverish than he was supposed to be at this point in time. Fucking hell! Fucking Dean! His eyes wandered to the boy on the ground who was holding his nose, his fingers stained red with blood and his left eye swelling shut rapidly. It wasn't a pretty sight but Louis couldn't find it in him to feel even the slightest bit of pity. It took him a moment to realise that Harry was talking to the Beta.

“… and if I ever hear even the smallest whisper, the most insignificant rumour, just a hint of speculation about the gender of my forward, I promise you, you’ll come to regret the day you were born. I won’t have that kind of talk disrupting my season and cause trouble, do you understand?“ Apparently there was a sound or a gesture coming from the pile of Beta on the ground that appeased Harry, because he continued with a voice that could only be described as a pleasant threat. “I’d hope so. And now scurry, before I break your arm for good measure for attacking and assaulting another student. Keep in mind that I won’t hesitate to report you if you ever come near him again, and I _will know_ should that happen, don't doubt it for a minute.“ 

There was a bit of scrambling, footsteps that were fading away quickly, but Louis attention didn't drift towards any of that. Dean suddenly didn't matter anymore. Harry mattered. Harry who was standing in front of him now, leaning down minimally to stare into Louis’ glassy eyes. Louis stared right back, breathless and trembling all over and almost not caring for how pathetic he must look.

“Fuck,“ Harry mumbled. “How far gone are you? What were you even doing, why were you leaving your room in this state? I didn't think you were actually that keen on people detecting your true gender.“

Louis managed nothing more but a small, inconclusive nod. It didn't answer much of anything, really. Also, was that _slick_ that made its way down the back of Louis’ thighs? Shit, he shouldn't be here, should he? 

“I’ll bring you to your dorm. Bloody hell, Tomlinson, I can’t believe you.“ 

Louis couldn't believe himself either.

+++

It took them twice as long as Louis would usually need to get to his dorm house and up the stairs to his shared flat. Harry, probably annoyed with witnessing Louis constantly stumbling and almost falling his way up the stairs, had wound his right arm tightly around Louis’ waist. Louis wondered if his hormone-clouded mind dreamed all of this up.

But that couldn't actually be, because all of this felt so damn real. Harry’s body close and warm and comforting next to Louis’ own, Harry’s smell infiltrating all of Louis’ senses and leaving him even weaker in the knees, Harry’s voice grumbling words Louis’ didn't bother to listen to. 

“Where are your keys?“ Harry demanded to know when they were standing in front of Louis’ locked flat door. It took Harry flicking his fingers straight up in Louis’ face and biting out an annoyed “Tomlinson!“, for Louis to react and fumble them out of his back pocket. 

God! None of this was planned, none of this was supposed to happen. Louis wished he could grab onto the last bits of sanity he beheld for now to rip himself from Harry’s side and get away. He never planned on anyone besides his mum ever seeing him in this state and that it had to be Harry of all people, of _all the fucking people in the whole goddamn world_ , felt like the universe’s biggest fucking joke to him. It was mortifying. 

Inside the flat they had to sneak past two of Louis’ roommates, who were having lunch in the kitchen, entered Louis room, before they eventually entered the safety of Louis’ room. Harry let out a relieved sigh as soon as the door closed behind them. It was that moment, the realisation that Harry Styles was standing in Louis’ dorm, his little save space, letting his eyes unabashedly travel over all the shit lying around on Louis’ floor, over the unmade bed and the walls plastered with family photos and football posters that finally pulled Louis’ back into the here and now.

“What are still doing here?“ Louis’ tone was resigned and tired and maybe that was the reason for Harry’s eyes snapping to him instantly. “Honestly, I know you thrive on witnessing my moments of pain and shame and all, but could you find at least a scrap of decency in you to not use any of this against me?“ 

Harry seemed, unexpectedly enough, at a loss for words.

“I just saved you from that Beta brute,“ he pointed out, after a short while. His eyes weren't half as cold and impersonal as Louis was generally used to, which was actually pleasing. His words, however, not so much.

Louis responded with an exaggerated eye role as he stepped away from Harry, who’s grip slipped from his waist in the process. The loss of contact washed over him like an ice-cold shower. “Do you expect me to kiss your feet for that? Like, thanks I guess, but it was what anyone would or at least _should_ do, you know.“

Expecting a rant about ungratefulness or maybe even another scolding about his own stupidity from Harry, Louis settled on his bed and buried his face into the covers. He wanted the Alpha gone, but even more he wanted this heat to be over and done with already. The familiar ache of it began to slowly, but surely spread through his body. 

“I do know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened, Louis.“ 

The words were soft and unexpected. 

And as simply as that, it was back. That spark, that feeling. Memories of the Oxford night flashed through his mind. Harry uttering his name in that deep voice of his, when Louis was already emotionally fragile and hormonally confused, didn't help matters at all. He bit into the closest pillow in a vain effort to muffle his whimper. 

Jesus Christ!

It was just — the tone of Harry’s voice, the sincerity swinging along in his words, him using Louis’ actual name. It was too much to handle in the state Louis found himself in.

“I’m sorry,“ Harry said again, though at this point Louis felt like neither of them knew what for exactly.

Huffing out a breath Louis flopped onto his back, his eyes searching out Harry — Harry who was still standing in the place Louis had left him in, stiff and guarded, his gaze not meeting Louis’. It felt like a part of Louis’ cracked in half. 

“Am I that unappealing to you?“ He asked, and if anything about this situation were different he would punch himself for the desperation that was leaking into the words.

Harry swallowed heavily; Louis could see the movement of his throat. Still, he seemed so impassive. “Why would you say that?“ 

Louis let his eyes slide to the floor. His cheeks felt hot. “You can’t even look at me. I — am I — am I that unattractive to you? Is there nothing about me that —“ He shook his head, didn’t bother to finish, didn't even know where he was going with this or what he wanted Harry to say or do. 

Harry stepped towards him, one step and then another, almost cautiously. “Would you like me to take advantage of you?“ He met Louis’ eyes, finally. His voice was changed, now, darker, more dangerous. Rich and captivating. Louis wanted to kiss him silly and that thought scared him more than anything. “Would you like me to fall all over you, rip your clothes off your body and feel for the slick that I can smell running down your thighs this very moment? Is _that_ what you _want_ from me?“ 

Louis wanted to nod. He wanted to scream and shout and beg for Harry to do just that, to undress him and touch him and teach him all the things that one could do with another person in bed, about the passion and desperation, but about the softness of it all, too. Louis’ mind was racing with possibilities.

Harry didn't give him time to figure out an answer anyway. “I won’t do any of that, Louis!“ There was the name again, but it didn't help against the crushing disappointment that was rushing through him. Harry stepped closer still, calmly reached out a hand. His fingers were stroking Louis’ messy fringe away from his sweaty forehead. “But the reason isn't that I don't find you attractive or alluring. Right now you're actually pretty irresistible, and I think you not being a sassy, back-answering menace for once plays a big role in that.“ A weird sort of smile flitted over Harry’s lips. To Louis steadily hazier-growing mind it looked fond, in a way. “But I played _Never Have I Ever_ with you, Louis, and I’m very sure that you’ve never been with an Alpha before. Maybe haven't been with anyone at all, before. And I won’t let your heat-addled mind take that away from you.“

Louis hummed, the words taking their sweet time to sicker in. Deep down he knew Harry’s explanation made sense, was honestly the kindest and most attentive he had ever been with Louis. Still, it felt unfair — his inner Omega certainly protested vehemently. Unconsciously, he leaned further into the large, calloused hand that was still resting against his face, his eyes slipping shut against his will. How strange that a gesture as innocent and pure as this one made him feel so taken care, safe and sound. And from Harry, of all people.

Harry, who was such a contradiction.

“Do you have everything you need?“ Harry asked then, stepping away, leaving Louis longing, the touch gone from his heated face. Louis perceived it as a blessing and a punishment all at once. 

“Yes. Yes I have it all here,“ Louis croaked out after the second that he needed to gather his wits. He looked at the bottles of drinks places next to his bed, at the amount of easily accessible food on his desk. There were towels and another set of bedding should the one he was lying on right this moment become to disgusting to handle. In an inconspicuous, brown box his small collection of toys was gathered. Luckily, the lid was closed, hidden from Harry’s view. 

Harry nodded. “And are you okay?“

“I am,“ Louis assured. He had never felt so focused and out of it all at once ever before. It was the most disturbing feeling, really.

Again, Harry nodded. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Don’t leave your room, okay? Don't do anything stupid. Stay safe.“ 

“I will.“

An awkward pause followed their small exchange. Louis’ felt himself slipping away once more. He at least hoped that starting his heat early meant that it would also end sooner. 

“I’ll excuse you from practice,“ said Harry eventually. He raised his hand, as if to wave goodbye, but let it sink again hurriedly. Louis’ smile felt wobbly and too big for his face. “See you later, Tomlinson.“ 

As Harry made for the door, Louis managed to sit up a little straighter. His trousers felt wet and uncomfortable, and there was a familiar itch starting up in his lower belly. It wouldn't be long now …

“Thank you, Harry,“ Louis said. He almost got it out without further embarrassing himself, but then a wave of burning shivers ran up his spine and more slick leaked through his pants and he might as well needn't have bothered — his voice was barely anything but a breathless whine. The door closed behind Harry.

He probably hadn't heard and Louis was almost sure it was better this way. Still, he groaned into his pillows. Harry’s scent was lingering in the air and Louis’ heightened senses loved it, ate it right up. 

It took him a half eternity to get out of his bed to lock the door, once, twice, and to cover the room in neutraliser spray, using up most of the bottle. Only when he stumbled back to his bed did he dare to kick off his shoes and struggle out of his trousers. His shirt took a flight across the room. 

Falling onto his sheets once more he finally gave in to the fire simmering inside him. He didn't need to close his eyes, didn't need to conjour up images of faceless Alpha bodies. When he finally touched himself for the first time (lips wet, eyes unfocused, mouth open, toes curling, back arching) there was only one thing he could see and smell and feel, only one person all over his heart, mind and soul: Harry. 

He gasped and came all over himself in a matter of seconds. 

+++


	9. NINE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m the worst and I will stay the worst, please don’t expect better from me, because you probably will be disappointed. Honestly, I’m sorry my updates are taking so long, but please don’t give up on me, because I assure you I won’t give up on this fic. Anyway, exciting stuff (hopefully you'll think so, at least) happening in this one. I know there was something else I meant to say, but I forgot so yeah ... Please enjoy! Also, don't forget to watch _soccer aid_ to support our dear boys! :)
> 
> Julia x

As a result of his fucking unnecessary heat Louis wasn't chosen as a player for the next game against the A-B University Football Team of Wolverhampton. It wasn't so much disappointing as it was annoying. He could have been chosen, is pretty sure Collins wanted to pick him, too, but with him missing almost an entire week of practice that really wasn't justifiable. Didn't mean that Louis couldn't be pissed about it, though.

So maybe he was showing his frustration a bit too openly in the locker room, which brought him some concerned and some pitying glances, which — that didn't help, thanks!

What also didn't help was Harry Goddamn Styles. 

His mind had been in a constant state of messiness ever since his heat had passed and he was able to think clearly once again. All that had been occupying his brain since then, of course, was Harry’s behaviour on the day his heat started. First of all the Alpha had helped him out of a situation that could've turned nasty pretty quickly. Then, he took care to bring Louis back to his dorm room, assuring that he would end up there unharmed, undetected and alone. And lastly, there had been another spark and Harry had recognised it, Louis was sure of that, but he didn't take advantage of Louis. Just like he hadn't in Oxford. 

Unlike the morning after in Oxford, though, this time around Harry didn't ignore him. He didn't act indifferent anymore, or as if handling and supervising Louis during practice was the heaviest burden. That wasn't supposed to mean that he acted quite the opposite, either, because that would be an exaggeration. No, weirdly enough, he simply started to act naturally, civilly. He greeted Louis just like he greeted every other member of the team, for one, which didn't sound like a big deal but actually was. Then, during practice, Harry didn't constantly skip over Louis anymore, failed to pass him the ball or deliberately left him out in tackling and team-building exercises. And that one time Louis managed to score a near-impossible goal with his left foot Harry even paid him a compliment, and even if it was straight to the point and slightly stilted, Louis couldn't help but be giddy about it for the rest of the day.

It wasn't much, but somehow it still was, if that made any sense at all. It probably didn't for anybody who wasn't Louis. For the first time he felt like an actual member of the team, appreciated and involved, and he was happy about that. He wasn't all too happy that all this was brought about by the pitying appearance he offered up while going into heat right in front of Harry’s eyes.

He’d take what he could get, though, obviously. Because it was impossible to deny that the bits and pieces of Harry’s attention and goodwill that were directed Louis’ way felt like rays of sunshine on his skin. 

+++

The Thursday before the next game weekend was a bad day for Louis, there was no denying. 

Upon waking up and getting ready for the day Louis had realised that his stock of Yorkshire tea was gone. Like, honestly, how could that even have happened without him noticing? Everything started to go downhill from there on, _obviously_. The light on his bike broke right during his ride to the university campus, which sucked, because now he would have to make time to get that fixed. Then he was unable to answer not only one but two questions his professor directed at him in his Canadian Literatures Seminar. Louis despised not being on top of the topics they were covering in class, but with his heat making him miss almost an entire week of uni he still had catching up to do that had prevented him from reading the novel that had been assigned for the day. It was an excuse he, of course, couldn't use. It sufficed to say that the professor wasn't pleased with him in the slightest. 

Embarrassed and discontent as he was it was no wonder, really, that Louis had then proceeded to play a terrible game of football during practice. He lost the ball countless times, missed the easiest passes and fell for half-hearted tackles more often than he cared to admit. If the sharp glances Coach Collins had thrown his way were anything to go by the man wasn't pleased by his performance, either.

Bitter thoughts occupied Louis’ mind as Collins blew his whistle and shooed them towards the locker room, effectively ending the session. As he considered his bad performance Louis couldn't even be angry for not being chosen to play against Wolverhampton, could he? It still sucked and the knowledge that he would spent his Saturday on the bench didn't help to get rid of the aggravation he was feeling, but after the day’s failure of a practice he felt as if he deserved just that. 

He was the last one to leave the pitch eventually, having decided to run a few more laps to cope with the mixture of disappointment and annoyance that was bubbling low in his guts. Fucking hell, he needed a better coping mechanism! He couldn't completely lose his composure whenever something didn't go his way. He wouldn't be chosen for the starting eleven in every game and it would probably be helpful for everyone involved to learn to deal with that fact. 

Sighing, Louis entered the locker room, which seemed empty apart from one last sports bag of one of the other guys that was sitting forlornly on one of the worn wooden benches. Louis didn't pay much attention to it, too busy stripping down and grabbing a towel and his shower supplies so he could get under the hot stream already. 

If he hadn't been quite so worked up Louis maybe would have noticed that the shower room wasn't empty. As it was, the sound of running water and the sight of a broad, naked back under the stream startled him. 

“Oops,“ he muttered, more so to himself and not with the intention of actually being heard.

The person whirls around though, seemingly as surprised by the sudden company as Louis had been. Louis should have expected that he would meet the eyes of one Harry Styles, really. That was just his luck. And looking back, the tattoos that had been visible on Harry’s arms, even when he had his back turned towards the door and Louis, should have clued him in.

“Hi,“ Harry said, voice deep and slow. It was a stupid thing to say — they had spent the last two hours on the pitch together, after all — but since Louis was now confronted with Harry’s naked front, mocking him for his nonsensical greeting wasn't high on Louis’ list on priorities. Averting his eyes from Harry’s wet and glistening abs, from his fucking _groin area_ , had certainly primacy. 

The steamy air between them turned awkward quickly. Only upon realising that he himself was, indeed, starkers as well, Louis understood why Harry’s eyes were now avoiding him. At least it could be a reason. Louis preferred his nakedness as reason over any other, honestly. He didn't want there something else that made Harry avoid him as soon as they were alone with each other. 

Swallowing loudly, Louis made his way to one of the free shower heads. He made sure to keep his distance from Harry, but also didn't chose one at the end of the room, because that wouldn't make the situation any more bearable, would it? It would only put focus on how strained the atmosphere actually was.

But was there a reason? For the last days, he and Harry had got along splendidly (if one took their history with each other into account). Honestly, by now they should be almost ready to have a trivial conversation about the weather or something. Seeing each other naked wasn't anything new or unusual, either. Hell, they showered every day with a whole bunch of perfectly sculpted, sweaty, naked lads. 

Here they were, though; both of them insistently staring in different directions and not exchanging another word. There was no irateness between them this time, just intangible tension. 

Louis was trying to get this shower done as fast as possible. So much for the hot water helping him relax the sore muscles in his back and legs. But he wasn't thinking about his shitty day anymore, so there was that at least. The question that now presented itself was not any less troublesome, though: Was it wrong to fantasise about Harry, about his beautifully formed body, his enticing eyes, his plump, rosy lips, when said boy was standing only a few feet away, _wet and naked?_ The answer was yes. Yes, that was wrong and creepy and actually a bit perverted. 

Louis scrunched up his nose at his own thoughts, displeased. Still, it took him a grand piece of self-restraint to keep his eyes away from Harry. In the hopes of distracting himself he proceeded to go over all the stuff he’d have to get done today — completing his essay for his Literature Lecture on Tuesday, finishing the book he was supposed to read for next weeks Canadian Literatures Seminar as to not end up clueless once again, packing his bags for the weekend. There, totally innocent, well-mannered thoughts.

As fate would have it, Harry shut off his shower the same moment Louis shut off his own, and the reality of the situation he found himself in slapped Louis in the face again. The following silence, barely interrupted by a few stray water droplets hitting the ground, was suffocating. For a split-second Louis pondered if it would be terrible obvious to turn his shower back on — then decided on yes, and grabbed his towel instead. He didn't dare to even glance in Harry’s general direction.

Jesus, where was this hole in the ground when you needed it? More importantly: why was it needed anyway? What the heck was even going on?

Louis heard Harry leave the room, his naked feet slapping against the tiled ground. It took Louis at least four deep breaths to steel himself and find the courage to follow him, wrapped up tightly in his towel.

“Fuck!“

That wasn't what Louis planned on saying upon entering the main room. He just couldn't help it. As soon as the shower door fell shut behind him, cutting of the steamy, soapy-smelling air with it, something else hit Louis nostrils, hard. It was undeniably Harry’s scent that was enveloping the entire room. Louis had taken it in often enough to make the scent out wherever, really, could remember it better than he cared to admit. But something was different about it — it was heavier, almost piercing now that there wasn't anything to gloss it over. Louis couldn't recall it ever being so overwhelming, but that might as well could be his brain playing tricks on him. It was more probable that Louis was just actually time and time again left flabbergasted by how delicious Harry smelled.

“Are you okay?“ said boy asked, looking up with furrowed brows and damp curls. 

Louis cheeks heated up instantly. Well, so much for trying and making this encounter less awkward, then. “Uh, yeah, sorry. It’s just —“ Shaking his head, Louis interrupted himself. What was he even trying to achieve here? With his eyes lowered to the ground he walked towards his own locker and began to towel himself dry.

“Just what?“ Harry inquired, relentless as always. He was busy shuffling into his black skinnies and Louis made it a point to turn away from that entire scene. 

“Just your smell,“ Louis answered, refusing to feel all too ashamed about it. It was natural to notice this stuff about other people, after all. It was biology and all that shit. Scents belonged to their everyday life, so there was nothing to worry over.

Harry made a weird sound, which had Louis looking at him after all. “What about it?“ 

Rolling his eyes, Louis straightened up from where he was hunched over his bag searching for the fresh pair of pants he was sure he put in there somewhere. If Harry wanted bluntness, he would get bluntness. “It’s strong, fogging up the entire room. Are you close to your rut or something?“ 

Harry seemed genuinely baffled by the words. “No,“ he answered, slowly. 

There was nothing to say to that, so quiet fell between them for the umpteenth time. Louis threw on his clothes as quickly as possible, ruffling through his bag louder than necessary just so there would be at least some kind of disrupting sound. Of all the weird, unpredictable encounters he’d had with Harry over the last few months this one was probably the new number one. And that was counting the embarrassing heat surprise. At least then Louis was, for the most part, too out of it to really care and in hindsight he just didn't bother remembering it in detail, because obviously. 

“You like it then?“ 

The question out of Harry’s mouth was unexpected, but when Louis thought about it just as arrogant and conceited as was usual for the boy. Louis had waited for Harry to return to his usual self, honestly, couldn't believe his civil self was actually there to stay. He had wondered when the politeness he’d offered Louis in the last days would vanish once again. He wouldn’t let himself be riled up, though.

“I’m sure I’m not the first one to comment on your scent, Styles. Like, you know you smell good, don't you? Don't try to get compliments out of me, because you won’t succeed.“

When their eyes met, Harry didn't look half as self-assertive as Louis had imagined him to be, surprisingly enough. Instead, he looked put out and exasperated. 

“You drive me insane, Tomlinson, Jesus fuck!“ 

Well, that was honestly the last thing Louis anticipated to hear. It was also damn unfair!

“What?“ He asked therefore, jaw hanging open slightly. This conversation was turning more outrageous and unbelievable with every other sentence. After a second, he caught himself. When he continued, his voice was loud and frantic. “No actually, _what?_ How? How the fuck? We never even _look_ at each other, let alone actually _talk_. How in the _world_ would I drive you insane? You are — honestly, you're so dumb.“ That had to be Louis’ most convincing end yet, good Lord!

Harry sighed so heavily that Louis could see it from all the way across the locker room. How did they even end up here?

“You are — you're just impossible,“ Harry started off, hands gesturing wildly. Louis could swear he had never seen him so beside himself as he was in that exact second. His eyes looked ready to shoot fire. “I can’t _stand_ you during practice. You’re always around, mouthing me off, doing your own thing, refusing to listen to me. I can’t concentrate because you’re always capturing my attention, making me focus on you and forget everything around me. And then, after, you swagger around the shower room, around the locker room, naked or barely covered in a towel with all your fucking _curves_ on display and I just. I want to slam you against the next wall and punch you in the face and then I want to fall to my knees and suck you off and you _drive. me. insane!_ “ 

Louis heart skipped two beats. 

That was … well. 

Harry was breathing harshly, eyes wide. He seemed to have an almost animalistic edge to him, as if his true Alpha nature was just a second away from going through with him and make true on everything he just said. Louis couldn't help the low keening sound that escaped the back of his throat at the thought alone. He had never felt wanted before, had never realised that he held anyones attention even for a second. But here Harry was, _Harry of all people_ , losing control, something Louis has never witnessed before. Even when Louis was in heat right beside him and they were alone in Louis’ dorm room Harry hadn't faltered for a second, remained strong and aloof and in check. 

Maybe it was the keening, maybe it was Louis’ shaky voice saying “Do it, then,“ or maybe it was the way his slick was starting to drip down the back of his thighs from how suddenly and overwhelmingly aroused he was, the smell covering the room in no time at all — Harry was in front of him in a blink, pushing him into the closed metal lockers with a painful shove and then, then they were kissing as if some force from above was making them.

Their teeth clashed in their haste to get their lips touching, and Louis shivered from head to toe. He had never imagined his first kiss to go like this, always thought of it as more sweet and gentle, but he certainly wasn't going to complain. This was everything. Harry on him and all around him, finally giving Louis what he had been craving for ever since that damned night in Oxford, was _everything._

Louis was breathless in moments, air stuttering out of his lungs and hitting Harry’s face in hot puffs. His hands were searching for something to hold onto, something to convince him that this was actually real and happening. Harry’s shirt was bunching up as Louis’ hands clawed into it. Clearly distinguishable from the both of them breathing harshly and the wet sounds their lips made mashing together Louis realised that he was whimpering, the tones high and desperate. Harry’s response was a low, guttural growl that made Louis cock honest-to-God twitch in his pants.

Time passed and Louis felt as if he was losing himself in heat and want and need. He’d never felt anything like this kiss, had never experienced anything so overwhelming, enrapturing and ravishing, and that was coming from a person who has lived through dozens of heats on his own. His heart was beating out of his chest, he was sure of it, as he felt Harry nibble and bite on his lips, felt Harry press his full body into Louis’ smaller one, capturing him as a whole.

Louis wouldn't have any problem with doing this for the rest of his life.

Good things always came to an end, though, and eventually Harry pulled away. Louis’ blinked rapidly to clear his eyes and, hopefully, his foggy mind as well. Harry’s curls were ruffled around his face, (and when did that happen), his eyes were glassy, his lips red, swollen and wet with saliva. Somehow, his dishevelled appearance was the sexiest thing Louis had ever taken in. He wanted Harry, here and now and with no regrets.

“God,“ he breathed, and then he realised what exactly he had just _done_. All that had happened in the last however many minutes suddenly seemed like the most twisted dream that left a bitter aftertaste. None of this was okay and none of this could happen again, not under these circumstances. “Oh God,“ Louis repeated, this time with more emphasis on his words, voice scratchy. He pressed a trembling hand against his own chapped lips, sure his eyes must be wide and shocked as they stared ahead in Harry’s unreadable face. He probably made for a hilarious sight, standing pressed flat against the lockers half-naked, half-hard and fiercely red, out of breath and completely confused, but the situation felt anything but funny to him. “What —? We — that — that shouldn't have happened, oh my God.“ 

Harry didn't say a word. He didn't agree or protest or flee as Louis pushed past him roughly to get to his bag. He reached for his university sweatshirt, pulling it over his head carelessly. He could feel Harry’s close presence, could feel his gaze burning through the back of his head. Fuck. _Fuck!_ What was he thinking? What were _they_ thinking? This wasn't okay, not okay at all. 

Louis didn't turn around, didn't offer another word or any kind of explanation as he left the locker room in a hurry. 

Harry didn't stop him either.

+++

Louis decided to go for a run as soon as he entered his dorm room, instantly feeling suffocated in the small space and by just the memory of Harry being here, watching Louis’ feverish self entering heat. 

Fresh air would help him clear his mind, certainly. It at least wouldn't make him think of Harry, or the kiss, or the dried slick that was no clinging to his briefs. He would just run it all away, because even two hours of football practice obviously hadn't exhausted him enough to make his head stop spinning now. 

Harry had kissed him and somehow it had been the most perfect thing Louis had ever experienced. He had never felt like that before, all fluttery and giddy and warm, as he had just then with Harry’s large hand encircling Louis’ slim waist and pressing him against the cold metal lockers. 

But they couldn't do this again. Louis couldn't let this happen again. Because kissing Louis was something else entirely for Harry as kissing Harry was for Louis. As vehemently as he would deny it should anyone ever approach him about it, Louis knew there were real, actual, serious feelings involved from his side. He liked Harry, and although he still couldn't figure out how that could have ever happened, especially considering Harry was such a huge jerk to him 95% of the time, there was no denying or changing it now. 

Harry though. Harry obviously just felt attracted to Louis. His words had made that much clear. He liked Louis’ body, especially naked, his curves and his sassiness, apparently. That was neither here not there, though, was it? That weren't feelings reaching any deeper than just beneath the surface of Louis’ being. 

And Louis wouldn't risk that. He wouldn't risk falling in love and getting fucked over. He wouldn't risk his future for the heart inside his chest that would most likely end up broken.

Louis nodded to himself as he jogged rounds through the park closest to the university campus and his dorm house. It was blessedly empty, the weather too cold and unforeseeable for most of the students to willingly spent time outside. 

At least he knew now that he hadn't imagined the spark between Harry and himself. There certainly was attraction there and it pleased him, somehow. It just wasn't enough.

+++

It wasn't until they reached Wolverhampton in the early Friday afternoon that Louis realised that he would have to share a room with Harry once again. He hadn't really forgotten, of course, had actually spent most of the drive silently fretting about it until Niall lost his patience with him — which actually meant something, because Niall was the most placid human being. Anyway, Louis knew what was awaiting him in Wolverhampton, he just didn't realise what actually would come along with the room-sharing. Harry’s scent, the unavoidable closeness they would have to endure, heavy silences. An entire weekend testing Louis’ self-restraint. 

Because even though he didn't plan on ever giving into Harry and act upon the attraction they felt for another, there was still his traitorous Omega-body that would be all to happy to get used by Harry in every possible way without asking Louis’ brain for permission. But no; no no no! That wasn't going to happy. Louis would sleep on the floor of Niall’s room if that is what it would take to resist temptation. 

He and Harry hadn't spoken all morning, hadn't even looked at each other. While Harry spent his time goofing around with Liam and some other lads in the back of the bus, Louis had cuddled up next to Niall and tried to cope with the nervousness that made his heart race and his hands sweat. 

But now here he was, in a lift with Niall, Adam and Mick, ready to move into his room for the weekend and trying hard not to shake from the suspense of facing Harry for the first time since the kiss. Louis wasn't even sure if _kiss_ was the right word to describe what happened between them, honestly. It had been more of a snogging session …

“See you later, Lou,“ Niall shouted after him, as usual in much too loud a voice for the indoors, as he stopped in front of his own room. Louis waved absentmindedly and walked on, almost mechanically searching for room number 131 with flickering eyes. He lost Mick and Adam along the way as well and was beginning to think that maybe he was on the wrong floor when the last door on the floor, positioned around a corner, came in sight — the brassy number 131 was attached to it. Finally!

Turns out that Harry wasn't in the room, and since his luggage was missing also hadn't been there yet. Louis tries not to think about it too long, about Harry avoiding him so urgently. He probably regretted losing his control yesterday, Louis figured as he took to the bed near the window. Why wouldn't he? He was obviously overwhelmed by biology, chemistry, not by real emotions. Surely he was embarrassed, maybe even thinking about a way of explaining it to Louis, trying to make clear to Louis that he shouldn't hold any hopes, which, Louis couldn't imagine anything more horrible than that. The idea alone made Louis shudder.

He decided to take Harry’s absence as a blessing and fell face first into his pillows. He hated bus rides, being confined in a small space with two dozens Alphas and Betas. The different scents got overwhelming quickly and his nose tended to be especially sensitive after his heats. Since there wasn't the option of opening windows Louis hadn't been able to catch a break. Smelling the starched hotel sheets was a true revival. 

Afterwards, he couldn't tell when he had fallen asleep, just that it was a warm, firm hand that shook him awake. It took him a beat to remember where he was. When his eyes focused on Harry, who was hovering over him with his mouth open as if ready to speak, Louis felt a blush creeping up his neck. Up this close, Louis was once more flashed with how truly good-looking Harry was; something he hadn't even been able to properly admire in the heat of the moment of the day before. 

“We were supposed to meet Collins at the bus ten minutes ago to go visit the pitch for the game. Come on,“ Harry said, voice bland and with a blank face to match. 

Harry was so fucking unreadable that Louis felt like ripping his hair out. He only nodded, thoughts still cluttered from his nap, and he needed two attempts to sit up. As he was stretching himself, his back cracking, he noticed Harry’s eyes on him. He raised a brow, questioning.

“We should talk,“ Harry said.

Louis bit his lip as he got up and smoothed down his shirt. They walked to the door next to each other. “If you think it’s necessary.“ 

Harry nodded. “I do.“

Sighing, Louis left the room after Harry and pulled the door shut. He hoped Harry had his keycard with him, because Louis’ own was somewhere on his bedside table, probably already buried under phone chargers, a bag of crisps and the books he needed to read for his upcoming seminars. As they entered the lift to get downstairs he asked, “I guess this is about yesterday?“ Upon Harry’s agreeing hum, Louis continued. “Honestly, there isn't much to talk about, don't you think? It was obviously an accident, a slip-up. I was a little overwhelmed by your scent, you were affected by my words and one thing led to another.“ He shrugged and marvelled at this own ability to appear far less bothered by any of this than he actually was. “You don’t need to — I don't even know — let me down gently or something. It was — nothing, isn't that right?“ He made a point of looking straight into Harry’s eyes while uttering those last words.

Even though it was expected, Harry’s reaction still hurt. His body seemed to relax, his face falling as the tenseness left him. He didn't look happy, but he never really did with Louis around, did he? “Yes, right,“ Harry affirmed. “Let’s just forget it ever happened, all right?“ 

The lift doors opened then, and Louis could see Collins waiting for them near the hotel’s front doors. He looked pissed. Turning to Harry, Louis offered up a strained smile. “All right.“   As he made his way across the hotel lobby he seriously doubted he would ever be able to forget the moment he and Harry shared, in a muggy locker room of all places. Just as much as he doubted his feelings for him would disappear into nothingness anytime soon.

Louis was glad Harry apologised to the Coach for the both of them, because Louis was too distracted by the lump clogging up his throat to do much of anything but keep walking; keep going. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. 

+++

They lose the game against Wolverhampton, which is a shame, because even though games this early in the season didn't count for much yet, it should have been at least a tie. Wolverhampton didn't offer the strongest squad and Louis wasn't sure what exactly happened to his own team, but the dynamic was off for the biggest parts of the ninety minutes game time and mostly it was just painful to watch. Harry in particular seemed almost lost on the field, and a quiet voice in the back of Louis’ head asked if maybe Harry played better with Louis beside him, with Louis as his partner in the forward field. It was a ridiculous thought — after all, Harry had played the entire last season without even knowing of Louis’ existence and he was perfectly good on his own and with various go-to forwards — but Louis found the itty-est bit of joy in thinking of himself as important for Harry’s game strength anyway. 

Needless to say that the atmosphere on the bus on the way back to Manchester was more than a little subdued. Coach Collins had made his anger quite known back in the locker rooms, wasting no time to criticise every single player who had been on the pitch. It was the first time all week that Louis was glad he hadn't been chosen, because if the contrite expressions of his team mates were anything to go by, Collins wrath wasn't something you’d want to have directed at yourself.

Harry was, unsurprisingly, taking it the hardest. Louis could understand that — after all it was Harry’s first loss as captain and in only the second game. Louis noticed how he avoided everyones eyes and snapped at anyone who dared to try and console him. It was pitiful to see poor Liam, who’s puppy eyes were wide and sad as Harry harshly told him to “shut up already“. It made Louis’ scowl — because here Harry was, once again, grumpy and facade, taking out his frustration on his players, who were no more at fault for the loss than he himself was.

Louis decidedly turned away from the scene, imagining that in the split-second he turned his head, Harry’s eyes were searching him out in the crowded bus. Clearly he was imagining things. After all, the situation between them was cleared up now and there was no need to linger and interpret nonexistent signs that could maybe, possibly imply Harry might feel differently than he let on in their short talk the day before. 

Louis really needed to learn to let bygones be bygones. 

Just because he was halfway in love, didn't mean that the universe had planned for his feelings to be returned.

+++


	10. TEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what to say about this chapter, so I think I just won't bother. Fun fact though: it took me exactly 49 days to get it up which is a new record that I'm not proud of in the least. Sorry, sorry, sorry, but you know, real life and all that nonsense. Thanks to everyone of you who's been patient with me, your support and lovely messages are greatly appreciated.
> 
> Julia x

The weather was turning properly fall-like after their weekend in Wolverhampton, the end of November so bleak and grey and rainy that it left Louis listless and gloomy. It didn't help that he was swamped in work, finally having realised that midterms were actual things that needed preparation and work. With football practice every afternoon Louis understood now how students found it in them to drop out of their sport teams or afternoon activities and clubs just to properly focus on their studies — to say he was overwhelmed with all the shit he had to get done would be a bit of an understatement. Nevertheless, the thought of quitting the football team never once seriously crossed his mind. After all, he wasn't just here to study and have a bit of fun playing football in his free time. He was here to play football first and foremost, his studies more of a necessary precaution than anything else. 

As he was bend over his history text book, jotting down and memorising important dates concerning the French Revolution, all Louis could think about was Christmas break. A silver lining! He was exhausted and he missed his mum’s home cooked food and, surprisingly, even his kind-of-annoying sisters. And Ernest, of course, Ernest always. That wasn't a surprise. Ernest was his little lad. He just couldn't wait to spent lazy afternoons on his mum’s couch, having tea and eating biscuits while the fireplace in the living room warmed his cold toes. 

The one thing he didn't look forward to was his birthday, but that would be over in a blink and anyway, it was always overshadowed by the spirit of Christmas in the air (however much his mum tried to make it not so). Maybe that was the reason he didn't enjoy it, but the thought of growing older wasn't exactly appealing to him either. Now that he knew what living on his own was like, what organising his own life meant, he wasn't all too keen on becoming a real, proper adult with a real, proper job and real, proper things to take care of every month — like paying bills, and insurances, and mortgage and staying on top of it all, too. 

Apart from Niall, who came by his dorm room regularly to spent some hours relaxing from the bothersome horror that was learning for exams, Louis didn't see much of his team mates outside of practice. There was no time for parties or pub nights now that real student life was out to get them. Louis had noticed the stress radiating off some of the boys during their practice games, and how they got more easily angered and more prone to hostility as a result. Louis hated that, because whenever a fight would break out between any two boys and there was yelling and growling involved, his Omega would cower away, desperate for peace and fearful of getting targeted himself. Whenever there was a dispute he needed to take care of his shaking hands and stuff them in his pockets in a way that wasn't too obvious, all the while afraid that a traitorous sound would slip past his lips. 

Louis needed a break from all of that. What he also needed a break from was Harry. Stupid Harry! If Louis had held any hopes that their relationship would stabilise to something one might call a friendly acquaintanceship after the weekend in Wolverhampton and the awkward talk in the elevator, he was dead wrong. While Harry was perfectly friendly and polite whenever there was interaction between the two of them now, Louis just felt like running to the ends of the earth to escape his charm and wit and belly-rumbling laugh that sometimes occurred when Louis would say something in that thoughtlessly sassy way of his that Harry had previously claimed to despise, but now seemed to actually enjoy. Harry appeared to be all ready for that friendship to start, but Louis felt like loosing his mind over it. He almost wished that mean, obstinate and arrogantly aloof Harry Styles would return, because he felt that was the only thing that could stop him from really falling head over heels for the boy. Fucking hell, the more time he spent thinking about that the more he was assured that it was already too late anyway. Harry somehow managed to bully his way into Louis’ heart and that was honestly the most ridiculous thing that had ever happened to Louis, hands down. And coming with that nonsensical infatuation that had filled his heart and mind came the longing to slip into Harry’s arms at any given moment, to kiss him silly, to jump him, to hold him, to be close to him. Anything, really: Louis felt like _anything_ Harry would be willing to offer him would be good enough, would be fantastic. 

He was pathetic. 

He _seriously needed_ that break!

+++

Playing football in the pouring rain was, believe it or not, not exactly one of Louis’ favourite things in the world. Nevermind that he was already exhausted from spending his entire Friday morning going over the notes of his Literature Lecture, his mind now stuffed with literary facts and figures, the fact that he was drenched in a matter of minutes didn't help much with anything either. Well, okay, he felt a whole lot more awake now, but he also felt as if a cold was right around the corner for him. It maybe wasn't a problem for a bunch of vigorous Alpha and Beta boys to jog around the pitch in sopping wet clothes and maintain their body temperature, but it was for Louis’ Omega constitution — which, that annoyed the fuck out of him and not for the first time. He hated being weaker and more prone to sickness just because what, his body was smaller and build for having babies? Like, what the hell? Shouldn't he be stronger and sturdier than everyone here for exactly that reason? 

However much he couldn't understand it, biology made it that way and after sixty minutes playtime Louis couldn't keep his body from trembling any longer. His shots grew weaker by the second which lead to a ton of misplaced passes, he was slipping in the muddy grass more than any of the other boys which lost him at least two awesome chances at scoring a goal and he knew his team was getting fed up with him for losing the ball to the opposite team time and time again. He was sure, though, that none of his team mates were as upset with his performance as he was himself. 

It was when he found himself once again slipping on the rain-slicked ground and falling to his knees — which resulted in Wesley snatching the ball from him and dribbling it to the other side of the field with an almost apologetic look on his face aimed at Louis’ crumbled form — that there was an irritated, rain-garbled shout from somewhere behind him. It was just as he had managed to right himself once again that he realised the shout had been directed at _him_ when an angry-looking Alpha crowded into his space. Louis blinked, taken aback at being so throughly and harshly stared down. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Tomlinson?“ Tim Ludovic growled at him, eyes flashing with unrestrained anger. Ludovic wasn't someone Louis had ever before had any contact with, really — all he knew was that the guy was, obviously, an Alpha, a third year student and the player who held the position of attacking midfielder before Harry transferred and snatched the place, along with the new captain title, away from him in a heartbeat. That must have sucked, Louis figured, but there was no need to get all up into Louis’ face just because Ludovic was dissatisfied with his part in the team.

“In case you didn't notice, it’s raining cats and dogs and the grass is one sloppy fucking slide, so excuse me for losing my grip. What the hell do you expect from me, especially if all I get are your shitti-ly aimed passes?“ Louis bit back, refusing to shy away. And okay, maybe that wasn't the most thought-out thing to do. 

Honestly, Louis sometimes forgot his place, especially because he became so used to being around Alpha and Beta guys during the last weeks, but … well. He really shouldn't provoke any conflicts, if the way Ludovic flashed his teeth, as if snarling, was anything to go by. Louis’ Omega winced internally, which led Louis to take a cautious step back. Fuck! He _really_ tended to forget his own strength — or lack thereof, for that matter.

The game around them had come to a stop, as it happened so often these days when there was a clash between two of the players. Louis didn't know if the attention aimed their way was helpful or inconvenient. He was about to utter an apology just to get this stuff over with, when Ludovic pushed him in one swift, unexpected move. Louis would feel embarrassed for almost going down with it if he wasn't so terrified. He really had no way of protecting himself against the Alpha in any way. He fought to resist the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and curl up into a jittery ball of nerves on the wet grass.

“Do you think you can get mouthy with me, you stupid brat?“ Ludovic spat at him, fists balled. “You should remember who you're talking to, _Beta_. Just because Styles seems to accept you as part of the team now doesn't mean you get the privilege to talk down on _me_. I’ve played football in this team for _years_ , you, on the contrary, are nothing but a replaceable fucking newbie. I will teach you a lesson if you think that —“

But suddenly, Harry was there and Ludovic’s words got stuck in his throat. Louis’ mouth fell open in disbelieve, because apparently Harry wasn't there to encourage Ludovic, to use this golden opportunity to teach Louis some kind of lesson in obedience, no. (Louis shouldn't have thought that kind of thing in the first place, should he? Because he and Harry were over this, Harry was over this.) Harry shoved Ludovic away, and there were a few heated words exchanged. Harry’s shoulders were tense, his back ramrod-straight and Louis couldn't turn his eyes away. 

He realised then that it must have only been a few moments since Ludovic pushed him to the ground and began to verbally abuse him, realised that Harry must have made his way over from the other side of the pitch the moment Louis went stumbling. And, well. Louis didn't know how to interpret all that; if this was down to Harry being the team captain or to Harry feeling _protective_ of Louis in some kind of way. What he did know, though, was that Harry shoving Ludovic away from Louis didn't do anything to quell Louis’ desire to kiss him. Which he didn't do, of course. Because they talked about that. And they decided that wouldn't happen again. Right.

“Thanks,“ Louis muttered, his eyes directed to the ground. He breathed in deeply and noticed now, after the excitement of the situation has passed and Ludovic had returned to his place on the field, how freezing cold he actually was. He wouldn't be surprised if his lips were tinted blue right now.

“You okay?“ Harry asked, one hand outstretched towards Louis as if to touch him, make sure that everything was as it should be, that everything was okay. Louis swallowed and a second later Harry’s hand fell to his side and it was as if nothing had happened in the first place.

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry for disrupting the game!“ 

“It’s not your fault,“ Harry said, throwing a short, sharp glance over his shoulder in Ludovic’s direction, before focusing on Louis’ smaller form once more. “Today’s conditions are terrible anyway. And you look as if you’ll die of frostbite any minute. I think I’m going to ask Coach to end the session early.“ 

Louis’ opened his mouth, but it took him a beat to actually form words. “You don't have to do that. For me, I mean. I can manage, honestly.“ Those words were so obviously a lie that Harry seemed to catch up on it immediately. Something like an exasperated grin ghosted over his lips. 

“Sure. Honestly, though, you're no use to anybody if you twist your ankle slipping or if you get a cold. You do realise that we really could've needed you during the last game, didn't you?“

And what the …

Did Harry just …? Did he just imply that …?

This might be the best, most important, most precious compliment Louis has ever gotten — which probably mostly falls back to the fact that it was _Harry_ who paid it to him.

Wow.

Luckily, Louis didn't have to respond to that statement, (couldn’t have anyway, as he was still processing it), because Harry turned on his heels and jogged towards Coach Collins, who was warm and safe bundled up in a rain coat at the edge of the field, impatiently waiting for the game to continue. 

Which it didn’t. Harry seemed to have brought one or two convincing arguments, since Collins nodded as if agreeing to what Harry proposed and then was blowing his whistle a minute later, ushering the team towards the locker room. Louis felt like crying in relief and held himself back from sprinting into the safety of the indoors. A hot shower sounded like the best thing to exist right about now. 

He really wanted to kiss Harry.

He was in trouble.

+++

“Fuck!“

By the time Louis was warmed up from a steaming hot shower and had wrapped himself in not one, but two cosy jumpers, the rain, of course, hadn't stopped. Which resulted in him standing in the locker room doorway and staring, heavily sighing, into the wet mess that was falling from the skies. Great! He might as well have skipped showering and changing, because once he had ridden his bike home trough this awful weather he would need to start anew, no doubt about that. 

He wished he could afford to call up a taxi. More so he wished there was some kind of shuttle bus driving to back to campus.

Chancing a glance outside once again he pondered his options, which were actually really limited. Either he fought his way home through the rain or he waited for it to stop, which by the looks of it, would mean spending the better part of his afternoon in the mucky locker rooms. And he really couldn't afford to waste his time, the looming final exams ever-present in the back of his mind. 

Louis only realised how long his shower had actually taken when he took in how empty the locker room was already. There were four boys left. One of them was Tim Ludovic and the other two some third years he never really spent much time with, but who, on second thought, looked pretty chummy with Ludovic. So … he obviously wasn't asking them for a ride, even though he was pretty sure the black Volvo in the parking lot belonged to one of them. The last boy was Harry, of course, because apparently Harry was always one of the last ones around — he probably enjoyed a good long shower just as much as Louis did. No shame in that, honestly.

Thing is, he could ask Harry for a ride. He was almost certain that Harry would take him, too. There was just still that urge clawing at Louis’ guts, that urge that wanted to do nothing but get all up into Harry’s space and make this afternoon about anything but revision. And that wasn't any kind of solution, really.

He _really_ wished he had that taxi money. Or better yet: he wished he had tagged along with Niall, who had been picked up by a mate for dinner in town ten minutes ago. Surely they could've made a detour and dropped Louis off at the dorm buildings. But Louis, being Louis, didn't think of any of that, too busy getting his body temperature up to normal again after that disastrous practice. God damn it! Would he ever learn how to use that brain of his? 

“I can take you, if you want.“ 

Harry’s voice suddenly sounding from behind Louis’ startled him into a twitch, the pull from his thoughts too abrupt to handle gracefully. Pressing a hand to his speeding heart, he turned around to face the team captain, who had apparently finished up twirling his curls into a messy bun atop his head and was now busy fixating it to stay there.

“I — uh —“ That was all Louis managed to get out. Where were all those convincing excuses when you needed them? “I —“

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow. “You what?“

“I don't know,“ Louis stammered, helplessly shrugging, feeling once more utterly stupid in Harry’s presence. Jesus Christ! 

“Don’t know what? If you want to drive your bike home in the pouring rain or get dropped off at your dorm safe and dry?“ Harry had this tone in his voice once again, the one that made whoever he was speaking to aware of the fact that he was losing his patience. As if to undermine that fact, he pointedly stared at his clock. He looked pretty amused though, so there was that. Louis was sure he’d never learn to properly read this roller-coaster of a boy. “Look, I’m going to go to my car and wait for exactly two minutes. Try to make up your mind, will you?“

And with those words he was gone and Louis was left staring at his tall form as he jogged through the rain to get to his car as quickly as possible. Well. Although Louis didn't know if driving with Harry was worth it, if it wouldn't actually be the better choice for him to just bike through the rain, there was one thing he was certain of: he didn't want to be alone with Ludovic and his Beta friends for even one second, not sure that there wasn't still a punch waiting for him. 

Swallowing, he grabbed his sports bag tighter and gritted his teeth. Maybe he was completely overreacting. It was only a five minute ride. 

Hiding as best as he possibly could from the downpour, Louis made a run for Harry’s passenger side door.

+++

As it turned out, he hadn't been overreacting. The smell that began to engulf him as soon as he had slammed Harry’s door shut was breathtaking, and Louis couldn't tell if breathtaking in this case was good or bad. The warmth from the air-conditioning somehow seemed to make it even more potent, Harry’s scent even stronger, manlier and headier than normally. To make matters worse, Harry was driving slower than he did last time, most likely because the rain and darkening of the sky restricted his view. Louis shouldn't find it so oddly enticing that Harry was one to care for road safety. 

Unlike usually, Harry didn't let silence reign in between them. Instead, he started off with something Louis didn't expect from him.

“You should be more careful, Louis.“ And yeah, here they were again with the first names. Still, Louis didn't understand what Harry was on about and he said as much. 

“What are you even talking about?“

Harry snorted. “Isn’t it obvious?“ With a sigh he continued. “You can’t go around seeking trouble with Alphas like you did today. Not even with Betas. In fact, just don’t go and instigate trouble at all. Like, what did you think your chances were against Tim? He would've beaten the crap out of you just then.“

“No, he wouldn’t have,“ Louis replied, sniffing indignantly, even though he was very aware of how dangerous the situation had in fact been, how ugly it could have turned out. “There were over twenty guys around and Coach was watching us like a hawk. Ludovic wouldn't have dared to pull a trick like that. And anyway, you were there before anything could've even happened.“

Harry groaned, clearly displeased. “But I won’t —“ He interrupted himself, biting his lip so hard it looked painful to Louis. The car came to a sudden stop, then, but Louis knew they weren't close to the dorm buildings yet. Harry took a deep breath before facing him, his expression calculating and upset all at once.

“You won’t what?“ Louis enquired, eyes fixed on Harry’s.

Harry huffed, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “I _won’t_ always be there to protect you.“ It came out low and grumbling, and if Louis hadn't felt so offended by those words he probably would have cherished them. 

“What the — I don't _need_ your protection, Harry! That wasn't what I was implying at all. Believe it or not, I’ve spent my whole life fighting on my own. I don't rely on anybody else to win my battles for me. I know you think I’m just another weak, helpless little Omega —“

“ _No, I don’t!_ I don't think that and I never have. Not for once! From the moment I realised you were an Omega I knew you were capable of holding your own ground. You are —“ Shaking his head rapidly, Harry beat his fist against the steering wheel. Louis was taken aback by the open agitation Harry was displaying. His hands were folding up in front of his chest out of their own accord, resuming a careful stance. “You are just — you are too much. And you don't even understand that. You don’t get what kind of effect you have on people, on everyone around, on _me_. You think you are all stealthy and inscrutable. But there are things about you that expose your true nature to everyone who just might decide take a closer look. And I’m so flabbergasted that you can still pull it off — that none of the boys have caught on to your difference in behaviour in any way; to the way you always cautiously check out any room before you enter, the way you try to be as invisible as possible to everyone around you, even the way you _look_ , all curves and dainty limbs and that way-too-stupidly-beautiful face of yours.“ He paused a beat, then, a look of true incredibility passing over his features. “But all that doesn't mean that you are invincible. That you've not been busted yet is sheer fucking luck. And if Tim had taken a real swing at you, you would've gone down and there would've been questions asked and you would've been scrutinised and that _would've let to trouble_ , I can assure as much. Because no Beta goes down after one blow. But do you know who does? Who does go down instantly? Omegas! Dammit, Louis! The rest of the team might have not questioned anything until now, but something like this will make them wonder. Don’t you get that?“

And well, maybe Louis hadn't actually gotten it up until this point. Fucking hell! He had been so cautious with every single step he took for the past three months and still, _still_ , Harry could count up all the ways in which Louis could potentially give himself away in a matter of seconds. He didn't even care that Harry called him beautiful, or that he apparently was so involved in Louis’ business that he could almost trace his steps. Harry looked as shocked at his own outburst as Louis felt and the only thing that was coming to his mind was asking: “Why do you even care?“

“Why do I care?“ That made a chocked-off laugh escape Harry’s throat. “Because I — I don't want to see you get caught, okay? I don't want you having to face the _millions_ of consequences that would fly your way as soon as your lie gets out into the open. I don't — I don't want to see you go from the team and I don't want your dream to get shattered. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!“ Once again, Harry hit his steering wheel. 

Louis sank deeper into his seat. None of this made any sense. Harry didn't make any sense. Harry didn't care, shouldn't care. That had been Louis’ whole premise from the start. But apparently he did. Maybe even had this whole time. And Louis felt overwhelmed with those thoughts. 

“Why don't you want to see me go? Why does my dream matter to you, of all people? You hated me for most of the time I’ve been on this team and even now I’m questioning your stance towards me. You were downright _terrible_ with me for weeks on end. You threatened me, you hurt me. And now — I don’t — what? Why?“ Louis felt helpless, trying to grasp onto something that was slipping through his fingers time and time again. What the hell was happening here? 

Harry refusing to look at him felt wholly different this time around, not like a disregard but more as if Harry felt the need to protect himself from something. Louis had to strain to hear his next words.

“Because I — because. There is — all I can think about is _you!_ You're on my mind all the time, and I feel like — it’s like. I just want to be close to you, I want to be around you. And I don't know why, or when this happened, even — you drive me insane, I told you that before. There shouldn't be anything that I want more than to see you go, but I just — I can’t fathom that. Thinking about not seeing you again is — just.“ Harry’s head hung low, his entire position one of defeat and surrender. 

Louis’ heart was skipping entire beat-sequences in his chest. 

“You like me.“ It was the most ridiculous statement Louis had ever made, but at the same time it felt as real as anything ever had. “You _like_ me.“

Harry physically jolted as the words registered with him. He raised his head, turned to stare at Louis with urgent eyes as if he wanted to convey something that Louis just didn't get. 

“Am I wrong? Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll leave to wallow in self-pity and embarrassment for assuming you could ever feel a fraction of what I’m — of what I’m feeling for you. I’ll leave you alone and fight my way home through this fucking monsoon, if you tell me I’m wrong,“ Louis said, voice breathless and hope, _ridiculous hope_ , blossoming in his chest.

But even after those words there was nothing but silence between them, Harry seemingly too reluctant to say anything else and Louis too mortified to fish for something else to break the fragility of the situation. Louis noticed they hadn't even turned on the car radio this time around and now its absence was deafening to his ears. 

Louis couldn't stand to hold eye contact any longer. Had he really read Harry’s whole monologue this wrong? What had been the message of all of that rambling then? Louis felt as if he was losing his grip on the world, his common sense, his ability to think and act.

Just as he turned to make good on his words and leave the car, Harry’s hand clenched tightly around his wrist. It might have been a painful grasp, but the heat that shot through Louis’ body at the simple touch burned out every other sensation.

“Don’t go! Please don't — don't go!“ Harry’s voice was barely more than a whisper and it felt like the most intimate, personal thing that had ever been directed at Louis. He didn't dare to face Harry again, but his body relaxed and the hand gripping the door handle slipped to his side. Suddenly, he felt incredibly weak, open and vulnerable. And he wanted Harry like he never wanted anything or anyone before.

“Will you kiss me again?“ Louis whispered back, because that was the only tone of voice that all of a sudden seemed appropriate in the confines of the car. Shifting his head slightly, Louis repeated himself. His eyes were focused on Harry’s left shoulder. “Please say you’ll kiss me ag—“ 

He wasn't given the chance to fully formulate his plea before Harry’s plump lips were on his own. And it was clash-y and bite-y and rough and desperate. It was wanton and brisk, a mix of tongue and teeth and saliva. It was dirty and wet and the best thing Louis had ever participated in. It was better than scoring the winning goal in a game of football and that thought would frighten Louis if he had enough energy to waste on thinking about it closely.

Harry was kissing him again and this time, Louis didn't plan on fleeing. And he hoped Harry didn't either. This time, they might get it right. This time, maybe their feelings were alike, their expectations and wishes and needs the same.

Louis’ arms interlocked behind Harry’s neck and he didn't plan on letting go soon or easily. Harry’s hot mouth wandering hungrily over his jaw bone made him believe Harry didn't either.

+++

Louis couldn't pinpoint exactly how much time they spent snogging in the front seats of Harry’s car — but since the windows were beginning to fog up Louis figured that it had to have been quite a while indeed. Eventually, though, Harry pressed short, smiley kisses against Louis’ lips, bit into them gently and then disentangled himself. He started the car up again without wasting any words and they made it to the dorms at last. 

The silence between them was back, but this time around it wasn't oppressive, tense or unpleasant at all. Harry had turned on the radio and just like last time Louis drove with him some Indie station began playing softly in the background. Louis felt calm, happy, giddy even, because Harry was holding Louis’ hand atop the gearstick and that spoke for itself, really, didn't it? 

Everything was unclear still, they hadn't talked about what they were even doing, what all of this meant in any way, but for once in his life Louis didn't feel like worrying. Harry’s grip was tight on his hand and that felt like all the reassurance he needed.

It was enough to know that there was one thing he could be certain of now and that was that Harry was the first person, the only person, that Louis had ever felt so strongly for. Harry was his first love, his first crush — the only person Louis had ever fallen for, _fallen in love with_. And whatever, so he didn't plan on it happening, didn't even wish for something like it, but experiencing it vividly now was exhilarating and freeing in the most substantial ways. It was as if he had spent his whole life missing one of the fundamental feelings that made the world turn and finally, finally found it in his utterly ludicrous love for Harry.

He didn't know what Harry expected or wanted or needed from this _thing_ that just now seemed to have developed in the heat of his car, if he even wanted them to be anything serious. But Louis thought that this time around they might have enough bravery to try and figure it out.

He couldn't help but smile about it all. Just couldn't. 

+++


	11. ELEVEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo.
> 
> Yes, I'm still here and still invested in this. Hard to believe? I figured! I feel like I should try my hand at Oneshots. I wouldn't disappoint anyone there with my update failures. Also, I think I've lost a bit of the plot somewhere, which probably comes with not working on a story for, like, almost a year. If you find I wrote total nonsense that doesn't work with anything I previously uploaded, please let me know. I've read parts of the story over, but not all of it. Friends, I'm ashamed and truly very sorry! I will try to do better in the future. That means, if someone is still even into this. Furthermore, I’m not going to lie, I was tipsy while writing half of this, so, you know, blame it on the alcohol?! And on all the sad tunes my iTunes library has to offer, which are an embarrassing lot.
> 
> Lastly, I thank Harry Styles, for giving me music.  
> (I thank Louis and Niall, too, but you know, Harry gave me an album!) 
> 
> Julia x

Maybe it was the fact that after parting by Harry’s car late on Friday afternoon Louis had not seen the Alpha again, or maybe it were the million things that had flitted through Louis’ mind since then, but where Louis had been confident and happy and overbrimming with joyful anticipation of what was to come at the beginning of the weekend, he know felt nothing short of dreadful. 

And it wasn't fair!

Because he wanted to be confident and happy and overbrimming with joyful anticipation. Because Harry had kissed him again, and Harry had held his hand over the gearstick of his car as if they were part of a freakin’ romcom movie, and Harry had smiled when he had bid Louis goodbye — a kind of secretively elated smile that Louis hadn't seen before on Harry’s handsome face but now felt he wouldn't want to miss.

Everything had been fine — perfect, even — on that rainstormy Friday. But now it was Sunday evening, everything felt grey and cold, Louis had a History exam first thing the next morning for which he felt only moderately prepared and he hadn't talked to anyone in roughly 48 hours. Doubt was wreaking havoc in his mind.

Weirdly, it wasn't Harry’s feelings or Harry’s sincerity that Louis fretted over, alone in his bed and gnawing on his lower lip (that same lip that Harry had bitten so tenderly only days before) at a time that he should long be asleep at, since he would fare better being fully awake and well rested for his exam. Instead, he felt like mourning. 

Because being with Harry was impossible, wasn't it? 

It was ridiculous how he hadn't thought of it before, really, but now that he and Harry had come as far as to admitting that there were undeniably feelings sparking between them, it seemed for the first time he was thinking clearly enough to view the bigger picture. A picture that he had managed to completely overlook, as it seems. What exactly it is that he had overlooked? Well, mostly the fucking impossibility of it all.

It was almost funny how little feelings mattered in the grand scheme of things, after all. And really, Louis never even considered feelings of any romantic kind to feature in his life’s story, but even less did he contemplate that he once would have to look at _the grand fucking scheme of things_. It was a terrible misjudgment on both accounts, obviously. 

But here he was, surprisingly and also quite unsurprisingly head over heels infatuated with Harry Styles. Harry Styles, who coincidentally was the captain of the football team Louis hoped to break-through with. Meaning: Harry was his boss, however strange that sounded. It wasn't any less true, though. Harry was his superior, a person who could actively influence his career, could make decisions that could alter the course of Louis’ entire life. And with that being so, it would be just plain stupid to admit to any kind of relationship that went beyond friendship — at least, if Louis ever hoped to make it out of university football and into an actual league team, and without being teased and bullied for “sleeping his way up“. 

As if that wasn't enough of an obstacle for any relationship — and they hadn't even established that yet, had they, a _relationship_ —, just add to it the fact that Harry was an _Alpha_ and Louis _pretended_ to be a _Beta_ , while he was in fact an _Omega_ that played in a team strictly reserved for _Alpha and Beta_ players. 

See the problem yet?

Because to Louis it was so glaringly obvious all of a sudden that he felt like hitting his head against a wall for being so ignorant to it before. Like, honestly? And it wasn't as if Louis had, for one blissful moment, forgotten how little he actually belonged to the team, how big of a risk he was taking by swindling his way into it, how much it all could cost him should he ever be discovered — no, that has always been plain and clear to him, he couldn't forget it if he tried.

And still, somehow it had seemed to him that all that was keeping him from actively pursuing any kind of romantic involvement with Harry was a lack of Harry’s feelings and an overabundance of Louis’ own. 

Somehow it hurt more now — the gradual realisation that he couldn't be with Harry, and _not_ because interest of any kind was lacking. No. He couldn't be with Harry because no matter how much he proclaimed to be a Beta, being in any kind of committed relationship with Harry — an Alpha — would make it so freaking obvious how little a Beta he truly was and how much he really had in common with an Omega. The size difference alone would make eyes pop should they be seen just holding hands, Louis lithe, curvy body next to Harry’s wide shoulders and long figure. And then there was the behaviour. While Louis found that he didn't have too much trouble turning off most of his Omega-y habits — which likely came from having to pretend to be someone he is not for half his life —, throwing him into a romantic relationship with an Alpha would render all of his training and experience useless. For one, he never has been involved in anything like it, so it would be an entirely new playing ground with an entirely new set of rules. For another, any pair of Alpha and Omega was a biologically highly-wired combination. Of course there wouldn't be actual sparks flying or mating dances happen in public places (no matter what some fairytales would like to make young ones believe). But there would be markers, certain obvious actions, movements and smells that would clue in even the most dense human being sooner or later that what they were seeing or smelling or even hearing was, in fact, an AO couple. Because there were pheromones flying, possessive scents prevailing and personal space cravings that needed to be given in to in ways that couldn't be called anything but obvious. There was a reason why a mating bond could only be conducted between an Alpha and an Omega. It was nature’s most beloved pairing. And therefore, everyone in the whole wide world was supposed to bear witness to it all — naturally. 

Which means, ultimately, that while Louis might for now be able to fool the university football world about his gender, as soon as he would give into Harry and form any oh-so-little romantic connection to him, all physical, chemical and biological readers on their teammates and, with time, everyone else's, too, would sound the alarm and Louis’ career — in sports, as well as education — will be over and done with. Most fucking likely, anyway.

Which brings him back to the grand scheme of fucking fucked up things.

He cannot be with Harry if he has any intention of further chasing his dream. And there was not a single bit of doubt about that. Louis wanted to continue playing football — and in an AB team, for that matter. He had been working towards this goal for as long as he could think back. What else would he even do? There was nothing he was even slightly as passionate about. Louis could not fathom leaving behind his dreams for anything in the world. Not even for what might as well turn out to be the love of his life.

Did that make him selfish? Unreasonable? Arrogant?

Was he willing to sacrifice his shot at love for the slight chance that he perhaps — by way of more cheating, more training, more relentlessness in every sense of the word — have a shot at football player glory? 

Normally, he would sneer down at anyone who even considered a question like that. Of course it was utterly stupid to drop any career wish, to stop following any dream for the sake of love. Any love story worth it would survive whatever obstacles thrown its way.

But that was before. Before Louis knew what it could be like, _feel_ like, to be so wholly entangled in this web of riddling emotions that is apparently called love. And the most frightening thing was that he and Harry hadn't even manifested anything. There had been two snogging sessions and a handful of fervently muttered words. It was laughable to even consider giving up anything for _that_.

Still, here Louis was, feeling as if he was being torn apart already.

But it was plain as day, in the end, wasn't it? Giving into his feelings for Harry completely, giving _them_ as a couple a go, meant jeopardising his whole entire life’s plan. Sooner rather than later, it would result in him having to _give something up_. Louis wasn't ready for that!

+++

Logically, the most stressful part of the day lay long behind him when Louis arrived at the training grounds on Monday afternoon. He had taken his History exam and, to his own utter astonishment, it hadn’t been half as difficult as he had expected it to be. So, he should feel good about that, shouldn't he? He had more than likely passed and probably with a good grade as well. Big yeay for university accomplishments and all that jazz.

Somehow, entering the locker rooms and _facing Harry_ still was the most damning thing the day had to offer him. Instead of feeling reassured by handing in a completely filled out test sheet, he had to fight for his heart to remain beating _inside_ his chest. He was so aflutter thinking about the upcoming training session that his hand slipped on the door to the locker rooms and he almost walked straight into the heavy metal. Stumbling with momentum he took a deep breath and prayed that no-one had seen that display of grace and elegance. He needed to get a grip.

Harry wouldn't do anything obvious. Harry wouldn't pull him aside to snog or make blatantly obvious comments or, really, endanger Louis’ status within the team in any way. Even though they hadn't talked since Friday afternoon, Louis was sure that they had left off on roughly the same page — they liked each other, sure enough, and kissing was awesome, too, and, yeah, the both of them were maybe slightly desperate for one another, but all of that was neither here nor there … yet. 

And honestly, if Louis hadn't had the kind of revelation he had over the weekend, if he hadn't understood how impossible it actually was for them to be together without destroying basically everything else, maybe today after practice they could have had a proper talk. They could have addressed their feelings plain and simple and then have just gone on from there. 

Now, not so much.

And really, here was what Louis was most afraid of: Not that Harry would change his mind on how he felt for Louis, or that he would do something stupid like show obvious affection in front of their team mates and Coach. Under other circumstances, not even a clarifying conversation would have seemed all too scary. 

But, no.

The fact was that just when they both had realised how much potential there was between them — for a relationship, maybe love, maybe a future — Louis couldn't do it. He couldn't take this step. He couldn't offer up his life’s work like that.

So, what really fucking scared him right about now was _that_ particular conversation. Not only because he feared that he will most likely hurt Harry, but because he _knew_ that he will hurt himself. Fuck. It’s like the found his own heart in the darkness of his chest cavity for the first time ever and, in the blink of an eye, had to lock it away again, not only in darkness this time but behind heavy iron doors and tamper-proof locks.

And what a fucking shame that was.

Here Louis was, innocently spending years and years of his life convincing himself that football was his one and only love, not even considering that he could, eventually, fall for something, _someone_ , a person with a heart and soul and body and mind. Somebody that would sweep in and take Louis’ breath away just like that. And now, upon that actually happening, upon the discovery of what _more_ there was to living, what all he hadn't felt and seen and tried out yet, he had to admit to himself that there was no feasible way to acquire it, to hold on to this love. Not if he really, seriously thought about it, considering consequences and all.

Louis swallowed heavily, blinked his eyes rapidly, opened the door. He felt dramatic, wallowing in misery for something that hadn't even really been yet. And wasn't it easier, and merciful, this way? Ending all advances now before he was so far down this rabbit-hole that he wouldn't find a way out if his life depended on it? 

It didn't matter how much he tried to convince himself of _that_ , though. He still felt like he had lost something precious when he walked into the locker room and found an empty spot on one of the wooden benches. He could have sworn he felt Harry’s hot gaze at the back of his neck, but he didn't turn, didn't check. 

He knew that there had to be a conversation — one that would be worlds different from what Louis would have expected it to be on Friday — but for now, avoiding Harry’s eyes felt like the only way he could hold himself over water.

+++

Maybe heartache was good for something, Louis thought as he was sprinting along the pitch, trying to catch up to Terence, who was handling the ball, getting ready to pass, searching out Louis’ feet to play towards. Because while he felt that there was a wound beginning to open up and fester inside his chest, he at the same time knew he had seldom played so great. It was just as if the pain and dread of what lay before him — lay before him because of this, because of football — was the best motivation he could wish for, was edging him on, made him want to prove to himself that he was doing the right thing.

He felt as if he was dancing across the field with the ball at his feet, dodging the players from the opposing practice team with ease. It was probably rather fortunate that Harry wasn't the attacking midfielder he had to cooperate with today. Instead he was stuck with that dick Ludovic and Terence, and surprisingly the game went well for them. They were ahead by two goals already and only sixty minutes into the game.

Playing like this reminded Louis of what he was really in Manchester for. Football. Playing the game was all he ever wanted and needed in life. And Harry, no matter how sincere and strong and all-encompassing these feelings bubbling in his chest were, wasn't enough to give this up for. And no matter how he spun the situation, there was no way that a relationship with Harry and a future career in professional AB football could ever be consolidated. With every second he thought about it, this fact became more undeniable to Louis. 

And so, hurting like he never had before, Louis did whatever he could to keep his feelings at bay. Playing the best game of football he ever did, showing Coach Collins and every other player on the field just what he was here for. He wouldn't give up on this. If he had to sacrifice Harry and this shot at being with the person that, later on, he might call his first true love, he would at the very fucking least make the most of his career. He would give his all and then a bit to make it worth it. It’s what he owed the both of them, isn't it?

The ball Terence passed falls in front of Louis’ feet almost too perfectly. Terence and Louis made a great team, and if maybe a little bit of the blind ease that he felt with Harry now was missing, Louis sure as fuck wasn't going to acknowledge it. He takes on the ball, his sole focus the goal which was protected by Pat Dorst. It was almost too simple. Whereas Liam would have presented an actual hindrance, Pat, with moves that still coloured him the inexperienced newbie he in fact was, Louis had nothing much to worry about. He was shooting, Pat was flying, but the ball hit the net high in the left corner anyways; Pat just a tick too slow, just an inch too low, to still reach the shot. 

Louis threw his fist in the air, and while the darkness in his chest was still looming, he made the most of this. Of succeeding, of winning the game he grew up with, the game he loved. 

It wasn't fair, really, that he had to choose. Because Harry had never really had a chance, had he? Louis had been ready to commit crimes to get where he is now. Was there even a way back? 

Before Louis could follow down this line of thought a bunch of his teammates came tumbling onto him. The force of the happy attack almost knocked him off his feet, but nobody cared, least of all Louis’, because he was happy. Fucking happy. Heartbroken, for sure. Dreading the conversation he _knew_ he needed to face. But this training session, this particular game, gave him something hours upon hours of thinking and wondering and pondering couldn't give him — the confirmation that he was still on the right track. That this was still what he came for, still what he wanted and needed and craved. 

Playing football what was he was born to do. 

This was his future!

+++

Because Louis knew how it most often turned out in the locker rooms — with Harry and himself, for whatever reason abandoned and alone in the locker rooms or stuck in awkward shower situations — he tried to get away from the training grounds as fast as possible. 

It would have worked out this time, too, if Harry hadn't actively sought out Louis’ company and the talk that they both knew was due — although they probably suspected very different things to come from it. 

“Tomlinson, I’d like to have a word please. Meet me out on the pitch after your shower!“ 

It wasn't as if that kind of command from his captain left Louis with much of a choice. Much less so if it was uttered in front of the whole squad, as it was in this case. So, with an inaudible sigh, Louis nodded his comprehension, before stepping into the shower room. He was followed closely by Niall, who looked torn between amusement and worry.

“What’s that about, then? He can’t very well have anything to shout about today. You played fucking ace!“ 

Louis blinked at his friend, heart warmed, a smile tugging at his lips. “Dunno. Guess I’ll find out soon enough,“ he shrugged in response. 

As Niall turned on his shower he grumbled under his breath, “He better not give you shit, honestly. You should talk to Coach if he keeps it up with this harassing. It’s been months now … time that the guy finds new prey.“

“Don’t worry your pretty blonde head, Nialler. He’s been nicer these past few weeks. I don't think he will give me any trouble today.“

Niall looked more than doubtful about that, but with a shrug he turned on his shower head and busied himself with scrubbing shampoo in his hair. 

Louis, following the actions, felt dread once more settle in his stomach. No matter how sure he is in his resolve, he doesn't know how he is supposed to admit to Harry that the few minutes they spent in his car Friday afternoon is all their relationship will ever amount to. That it doesn't matter what they feel for each other, that it doesn't matter if it hurts. 

He began to see the perks of never falling in love.

+++

Harry was still in his sweaty football gear, doing stretches on the sidelines of the abandoned pitch. Not even Coach Collins was around, which, when Louis thought about it, was probably just as Harry wanted it to be.

When Louis was close enough, he slumped into the dewy grass, the late November sky grey and looming above. Tomorrow, December would dawn, and from then on the year was about to die out quickly. 

Louis wasn't sure if he was supposed to start, get this thing going, but even if Harry expected him to, the words were failing on their way out of Louis’ mouth.

Harry spoke, eventually, without turning to look at him. Instead, he began a ferocious set of push-ups on the ground. “I knew the moment you walked in today. When you wouldn't look at me.“ His voice was thin, and Louis couldn't tell whether the exercise or the content of his words was to blame.

“Knew what?“ Louis asked, only a foot away from Harry, fiddling with the cool grass beneath his fingers. He felt like he should know the answer to his question already, and maybe unconsciously he did.

“That there wasn't actually a way. For the both of us, I mean, to be together. Or whatever. It should have occurred to me sooner. I’ve been fucking stupid, letting it go so far. I could have prevented myself a shitload of heartbreak if I’d just used my brain the way I’m supposed to.“ There was a bitterness that Louis hadn't heard before from Harry. 

Weirdly, he was relieved. Relieved that there needed no actual words to be spoken. That Harry was just as aware of the situation, of the stakes, as Louis was. It didn't help with the pain, though.

“I’m so sorry,“ Louis murmured, for a lack of anything else to say. 

Harry plummeted into the grass, landing on the hard ground in a way that had to hurt, and huffed an agitated breath. “There’s no need to be. You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s just … it’s a fucked up situation. It shouldn't have happened this way. It’s fucking unfair. But neither you nor I are guilty for catapulting us into this.“

Louis cleared his throat. “Only, I kinda am. You can tell me whatever you want and, like, I’m not regretting a thing, but … if I’d stuck to the life that was intended for me, we wouldn't be in this mess. If I’d accepted my status as Omega, had just been happy playing in a top-notch Omega league team then everything would be different.“

It was then that Harry decided to turn around. His eyes were dark and clouded, and there was no happy line or crinkle on his face, no dimple to trace. “Well, but in that case we probably would never have met at all and, yeah, everything sucks right now, but I don't think I’d have wanted to miss out on meeting you. It doesn't matter if I can have you or not, knowing you has … it has changed me, my life. Jesus, that sounds terrible.“

Maybe the moment wasn't right, but Louis couldn't suppress a soft chuckle. “Same,“ he admitted after a beat. “I guess I would’ve seen you on the telly sooner or later, as a proper celeb footy star in a Calvin Klein ad. But, it wouldn't have been the same. Actually, I’m certain I would've called you a tosspot for all eternity. I’m just now imagining you prancing around in fancy underwear with a smug grin on your face and it annoys me already.“

Harry snorts. It’s ridiculous, how they are here to admit to each other that their feelings, no matter how deep, will lead nowhere, but still they find the energy to laugh. “That sounds a lot like you, judging me before knowing me.“

“Oh shut up, as if you didn't do the same the moment you saw me,“ Louis quipped back. 

Harry’s eyebrows drew together, suddenly earnest again. “Actually, no. You don't know the half of it.“ There was an edge to the statement that made Louis curious. He knew before asking that whatever explanation he would receive wouldn't spare him any of the heartbreak he knew was headed his way. Still, he pressed on.

“What’s the whole of it, then?“ 

“You don't want to know, Lou. You shouldn't hear this.“

 _Lou._ His heart gave a painful lurch.

“I think I do.“

Sighing once more, Harry got up from the ground in a rather fluid motion. He pulled Louis up with him before the action registered with both of them, pulling him away. “Let’s head to the benches. Don’t need you catching your death sitting in the freezing grass. We lost a game already without you starting.“

Louis didn't comment, but warmth shot into his cheeks, leaving them burning red. He never imagined that caring words like these from an Alpha would have any effect on him at all, but combined with the between-the-lines compliment they set Louis’ guts tingling. 

“I liked you from the second we met in the locker rooms,“ Harry began, without needing another prompting, as soon as they’d settled on one of the roofed benches, hidden from the freezing winter winds and the world. There was a sizeable bit of space between them and Louis longed to close it. Maybe he had been waiting to tell this story, Louis wondered. “The very first time, I’m sure you remember that. You had this air about you, and determination written across your entire face. And I wanted you so much then, it took me by surprise, knocked my head ‘round. But you told me you were a Beta and it was like — like your tiny little fist punched a hole through my chest.“ 

Louis felt like protesting immediately, like defending himself and the size of his fists, but something told him that Harry wouldn't start again should he be interrupted now. So Louis bit his tongue, let the pretend-bitchy retorts slide. 

“I wanted you to be an Omega. In that one, world-stopping moment I wanted to have you as _my_ Omega. I wanted to mate you on the spot. I wanted you to — I already pictured you carrying my babies. Pure madness! It was like I saw you and knew you were the one for me, which is the stupidest thing I’ve ever thought or said out loud, fuck. But you being a Beta — that wasn't what I envisioned when I was prematurely imagining all these things, when I built up a future in my head that was so over the top and ridiculous that it, simultaneously, wasn’t. But you weren't an Omega; instead my teammate. I was so confused with all these emotions inside me that I wanted nothing more but distance. I didn't want to know you, I didn't even want to see you. But you were everywhere — your scent, your laugh, your perfect body — and it was doing my head in, I swear to God. You were my living dream and my living nightmare, all in one.“ 

Harry took a shuddery breath and Louis wanted to reach out. He felt like his heart wasn't beating anymore and that couldn't be healthy. Maybe Harry had been right. He shouldn't have wanted to hear this. 

“It was only after a while that I figured out your true nature. I guess it was because I was so obsessed with you, and suspicious from the start. I noticed so many things about you, which sounds really creepy and strange. I’m not a stalker, I just couldn't help myself. And the more I observed you, the more I got to know you — never mind if I wanted to or not, at that point in time — the surer I grew that there was more to you. When I confronted you in the park, I was only 70 percent certain my suspicion was actually true, feared I was making a total idiot of myself, but your reaction, Jesus! When I went home after you fled I felt like falling apart or crying out of sheer happiness. I’ve never been this way before.“ 

Harry’s throat made a scratchy sound, as if he was trying to force a self-depreciating laugh through it. Louis couldn't blame him for failing. Nothing about this was funny. Under other circumstances, it would have been a beautiful story, maybe. A charming one at the very least. Something to tell their friends and families when asked about how they had found each other. Now, not so much.

Harry continued even quieter. “Since then I’m just — I don't even know. I just wanted you more and more each day. Everything about you fascinated me, still does. When we kissed for the first time, it felt like I was losing the ground beneath my feet. And then you ran away, again, and I have never been so cold in my life without you close to me. Every part of me that is remotely Alpha was screaming out for you. I thought I was going insane! When you told me to forget about the kiss, that that would be the best, I just went along with it. I didn't know what I was supposed to do or say, didn't think it was my job to convince you otherwise. I thought you didn't want me like that, so there was no need for me to make this more awkward than it needed to be.“ Shaking his head, Harry avoided looking in Louis’ direction. “But in my car … I knew. I knew you felt the same. And I was almost delirious with happiness when we said goodbye, thinking that finally, _finally_ , you would be mine. That I would get to hold you, kiss you, touch you. I should have realised sooner, huh? That there wasn't a chance. Even with you turning out to actually be an Omega, and on top of that, interested in me — it should have occurred to me that it was hopeless from the start.“

Although it seemed that there were a thousand more words trying to break out of Harry, he remained quiet then. There wasn't a sound around — no birds screeching above their heads, no traffic noises penetrating the stadium walls, no other human being far and wide — and Louis felt the silence like a physical entity sitting between them. It wasn't tranquil, it wasn’t uncomfortable, it wasn't anything, really, but longing and the precipice to ages of aches.

When Louis blinked, desperately searching for words that would faithfully express even an ounce of the honesty and openness and vulnerability that Harry had just offered up to him, he noticed that there were cold tears clinging to his lashes. 

How did everything end up so fucked?

“I don't know what to do or say. Harry, I’m just … so sorry.“

“There’s still no reason. It’s not like you planned to stumble into my life and throw it all upside down.“ 

“I wish there was a way that wouldn't get me tangled up in even more lies. I can’t do that. You understand that, don't you? That I can’t do anything … that I don't see a way how we could … I can’t give up now. I worked so fucking hard to get here, into this team. For as long as I can remember I wanted to be a professional footballer and it’s not like I can just change into the Omega league now and have everything be done with. If I admit to my lies and deceptions now, I’ll be banned from the leagues, both the AB and the O, forever, that’s for damn certain.“ Scrambling for words helplessly, Louis’ hands flapped through the air. “I can’t afford to loose everything. Fuck. I couldn't pay my way out of those fines.“ 

Harry’s hand was on Louis’ knee suddenly, warm and strong. When Louis looked up and into his eyes, Harry said, quite simply, “I wouldn't ask you to do that. I wouldn't _want_ you to do that. Playing football is your dream. There is barely anyone out there who would understand that better than me. And above that, I couldn't live with you suffering in any way, shape or form for going so far, for breaking rules, to achieve everything you have now. You earned this, no matter what anyone else is saying. You have the skill and the perseverance and the presence of mind to play in any AB team in the world.“ 

“I don't want to hear that,“ Louis whispered dejectedly. Not even Harry’s heartfelt praise did anything to lighten Louis’ spirits. “Can’t you have a solution for all this? Can’t you tell me what to do to make all this, just, _less_ impossible?“ His tone walked the line of despair and insane hopefulness. 

Harry looked half mad and half in love. It was doing beautiful things to his face.

“I really don't see any way. I don't think there is anything we can do that won’t end up with you losing everything in the long run. There is no way we can pretend we’re just an Alpha and Beta, casually in love.“

It should feel bigger, Harry dropping these words, admitting so freely to the depth of his feelings and not hesitating in including Louis. He was so sure of it all, and in that moment, Louis felt it. Felt it all, felt it too, knew that it was the bitter truth.

How curious, indeed, how quickly he had succumbed to these feelings, blew past every warning sign and plunged into the deep without a single concern for himself. He hadn’t considered that coming up for air would burn so much.

There was nothing more to say, then.

They just kept sitting on their sheltered bench, with too much and not enough space between them, the wind blowing the occasional coloured leave their way, watching the sky darkening into night.

+++


	12. TWELVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I don't want to bore you, but I need to apologise as always for taking so incredibly long. I truly am sorry, but of course I probably won't change! Whoever is still onboard this story, please enjoy this chapter, it's like 3k longer than it would normally be, so that's something at least! (Please tell me if you despise it!)   
> Also, there are two songs I've listened to excessively while writing the last parts of this (you'll know which ones I'm talking about, I think) and they are for one the title song of this story, Daugther's [Landfill](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PVlC4gBMnuk) and also [All I Ever Needed](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yjRNpYtuhyY) by Nikki Reed and Paul McDonald. Maybe give them a listen. 
> 
> Julia x

Coming home for Christmas break was a sheer blessing, because looking back on it, Louis felt as if he’d spent the entire first half of December in agony. In between his mid-terms and facing Harry almost everyday on the training pitch, the only good things that happened to him were the two matches he got to play in. That the both of them were wins felt like nothing more than the ripest, sweetest cherry on top of an entire wasteful, inedible cake. 

Football was the one thing that kept Louis’ spirits up, but it was hard to wholeheartedly enjoy the work-out, the banter with boys he now called friends, the domination of the field with his feet on the ball, when at the same time his love and dedication to the sport was the one reason that denied him happiness in the only other aspect in life that suddenly seemed to matter to him. 

His feelings for Harry, now acknowledged and therefore undeniable, were a source of a constant aching in his chest. 

It wasn't easier that Harry returned these feelings, no matter how flabbergasting that appeared to Louis as times, when it just made Louis realise that the both of them were hurting with it. 

Entering the locker room every weekday, meeting Harry’s cloudy eyes, returning his dimple-missing-smiles that never felt whole, was torture. He wanted nothing more than to follow the overwhelming urge to throw his sports bag to the ground and fling himself at Harry, neither caring for their teammates, nor for their careers. It was frightening, how easy it was to forget about football in its entirety, when before, Louis couldn't go two hours without picking up a ball, or running through a tactical manoeuvre in his head. Frightening, because before university, before _Harry_ , football was the single most important thing to him. It had been worth sacrificing everything for, twice over even. And although Louis didn't regret a single choice he made, not really, he couldn't fight against the emptiness that at times flooded through him when the ball bounced of his feet.

No matter what, football would never love him back, and maybe that’s an essential thing in life, somehow — not only loving, giving, sacrificing, but receiving all that in return, too. Louis thought himself nothing but stupid for never realising before that there was more to life than this sport. A few months ago that would have sounded absurd to him, now it was a heavy truth pressing down on him. 

Getting to flee from the overwhelming chaos of feelings and football at the 20th of the month was nothing but sweet relief. Seeing his mum, his sisters and Ernest, getting some good hugs and cuddles in there — it was the most soothing thing that Louis could imagine, short from Harry himself showing up on his doorstep and whisking him away into a universe where it didn't matter what gender they identified as, where nothing but talent, persistence and devotion were required to play in a professional football league that anyone actually cared for. It shouldn't be too much to ask for …

Not even turning older on the 24th bothered him much, and that was saying something, because apart from being found out for being an Omega, there was nothing he dreaded more than growing old. He was just glad to be with his family, which allowed him to avoid thinking about the kind of lonely life he apparently had to lead — seeing as he would never be able to out himself as Omega so long as he was playing football and therefore never would be able to have an open and honest relationship with … well, anybody, really. It never occurred or troubled him before, and part of him cursed Harry for making it all so blatantly obvious, for showing him what he was missing out on, not to never be forgotten again. 

His mum had made him the fanciest birthday cake, he got the biggest box of Yorkshire tea known to mankind from his sisters, a three-month ration of suppressants from his mum and Dan among some gift cards for clothing stores, which was not only thoughtful but so needed. Once again it made him aware how fucking hard it was to live life as an adult, all the shit one had to provide for. Not that his family didn't still pay for all his expenses anyway, but it made Louis feel slightly less guilty that his mum didn't spent money on him for stuff that he didn't truly need, but instead went about it all practically without making it appear that way.

He got tons of text messages from the lads of the team, even though he wasn't sure how most of them got either his number nor his date of birth. He made sure to thank every one of them, using the time to wish them a Merry Christmas, too. 

It was later that night, with everyone else in bed, his youngest siblings long asleep in the hope that time would go by faster and Santa come over sooner, when his phone vibrated once again with a text. 

It took Louis a second to realise that Harry’s name was flashing across his display. Right on cue, his heart stuttered irritatingly. He would deny to his dying day that his hands were shaking as he reached for the device on his nightstand and pressed his thumb to the Home-button to unlock it. It was a short message, no emojis, no unnecessary fuss, but somehow it meant more to Louis than all the other texts he received that day combined.

_hey lou, running late but i still wanted to wish you a happy birthday! i hope you had a great day today and are enjoying the time off with your family. xx h_

Swallowing, Louis didn't even pretend that he was going to ignore the text and answer later, maybe in the morning. Instead, he typed out a reply immediately. It’s not as if he and Harry hadn't talked this past month, despite the ache that accompanied every word, look and smile they shared, but it hasn't been intimate and private between them since that afternoon on the pitch. Since the talk. One of them always took care to involve another team member into the conversations so that they never ran any risk of getting lost in each other, in the abyss of feelings and chaos that was separating them. This simple message was more private than any of that, by far.

_thanks so much, harry ! i did have a good time . hope youre having fun w/ your family . merry christmas !! xx_

Louis pressed send before he could think the words over. 

He didn't get a reply, even though he spent the next hour clutching the phone in his hands and reading the two short messages over and over and over, until the words blurred before his burning eyes and he succumbed to his fatigue. 

In the morning, as he was awoken by the shrill screams of Daisy and Phoebe desperate for presents and Ernest and Doris’ excited toddler shrieking at the general hubbub in the house, his screen notified him of another text. His hand was still clutched painfully around the device.

_you too, lou, merry christmas! xx_

Louis sighed, not sure whether to feel lighter or heavier after this exchange, but utterly sure that he was helpless as well as in over his head with the entire situation. He left his mobile behind on his bed to join his family in celebrating Christmas, a vain attempt to block every further thought of Harry from his mind. 

He wasn't very successful, of course.

+++

After the Christmas cheer dissipated, Louis tried his hardest to not revert into his gloomy pre-holiday disposition. The end of the year neared rapidly, and although Louis was ready to leave some things in the past, ready for new beginnings, the rousing Sylvester party his friends had apparently planned didn't sound like something he would enjoy much. 

Still, his mum pushed him out of the front door on the 31st, encouraging him to have a good time, and call if he needed a ride home later on. Louis hoped the smile he gave in return wasn't as forced as it felt. In the end, it was the promise of alcohol, fireworks and a group of his friends he hasn't seen in months that made him at least attempt to make the evening a nice one. 

As soon as Stan greeted him at the door to his parents’ house, Louis’ strained smile turned several shades more genuine. The scent of Louis’ childhood friend, a Beta and unlike Louis not a pretend-one, was familiar and soothing and pulled him back to a time where Harry Styles and A-B University football wasn't relevant at all. 

“Long time no see, you big shot footy star!“ Stan greeted him enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear. “Seems like you didn't forget about us mere mortals after all.“

Louis flipped him off. “As funny as ever, you are,“ he quipped. 

Stan laughed obligingly, pulling him into a tight hug. “For real, though, I missed you!“

Louis nodded against Stan’s shoulder. “You too, man!“ 

Stan had apparently decided to invite most of their old class from school, which turned the Sylvester party into more of a class reunion, not that Louis was complaining. He got to catch up with many of his old friends and acquaintances and managed to divert the attention from his budding football career all the more easily the drunker his conversation partners got. 

Louis himself, of course, used the opportunity of not having to attend any mandatory football practices in the foreseeable future to get recklessly drunk as well. Before eleven a.m. he had had his fair share of beers and toasted more than enough times to life, to the new year, to a successful career, to the future and to friendship with Stan, which meant his liquor level was rising steadily. Considering that he had been mostly abstinent for the last months, too focused on training sessions, games and his studies to really dare to let go, he was inebriated enough when midnight came around. 

Which, coincidentally, was the moment itself that Louis couldn't anticipate less. Having to see people all around him, Alphas, Betas and Omegas alike, flaunt their love lives, kissing and making out without a worry in the world, when Louis couldn't see a way to ever get that lucky, no matter how much he wanted to, made his stomach churn. It wasn't jealousy, exactly, just bitterness that his dream, which he had already sacrificed so much for, was taking this from him, too. If he weren't so hopelessly devoted to football, it would be moments like these in which he would doubt whether it was all worth it. 

But not even watching people around him handing out midnight kisses like free candy while he stumbled around drunkenly, searching for Stan to wish him a Happy New Year, he could deny that, given the chance, he of course would do everything exactly the same all over again. No matter how much he sometimes might want to, he couldn't ever regret giving his one and all for this shot at a proper football career.

Just as he decided to give up on his senseless mission of finding his friend anywhere in this chaos and instead venture to the bathroom for a quick wee was when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Fumbling it out, he saw in fact various text message notifications on the lit up screen. The most recent one was the one that had not only his legs stumble, but his heart as well. 

Harry hadn’t contacted him again since his birthday a week ago. But here, now, there was a text that Louis felt Satan personally created to ruin his night and the new year all in one.

 _i wish i could ve kiss d you at midnight_

Louis didn't even bother to open the messages he got from his mum, his older sisters, Niall, Liam and some of the other lads from uni. Instead, he sprint-walked into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him, biting his bottom lip hard to suppress a sob that probably would have come out more like a whimper. He sank against the nearest wall, feeling utterly defeated.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair of Harry to send this kind of text, to subject Louis to even more pain and longing than he was already feeling anyway. None of this was fucking fair and Louis wanted to scream.

More than that he wanted to go home and have a good cry huddled up in his blankets. 

Being drunk didn't help for shit now.

He knew Harry meant no harm, was probably hurting just as much as Louis, but this? This wasn't a solution. This was torment. Harry was supposed to have some clue on all the Alpha-Omega dynamics, wasn't he? He should be aware of what such a thoughtfully thoughtless text was doing to Louis, how his Omega was suffering more than ever, because despite Louis thinking the distance constituted a moment of peace for him, his Omega was writhing and clawing at his insides in agony, trying to be close to his Alpha again.

Because, in the end, for all matters and purposes, Harry was _his Alpha._ He was the closest Louis ever got to anything that can be called a romantic involvement and it wasn't actually surprising that his traitorous Omega-disposition yearned for it like a moth for a flame. 

Why would Harry not consider that? Why would he make Louis endure even more pain than he already did?

Pressing both hands to his face, for one to stop the embarrassing sounds that escaped his mouth, but also to hinder any upcoming stray tears from escaping his eyes, Louis sat heavily on the closed toilet lid. While the rest of England started off the new year with smiles and clinking glasses and all the kisses they deserved, Louis felt nothing but burning nausea scorching his inside. 

He would never admit that it took him almost an hour to compose himself and when he made his way home in the freezing darkness, forgoing the picking-up his mum had offered him, he wished the cold would hurt as much as his heart — if only to deflect from it for a moment or two.

+++

Louis spends the first month of the new year alternating between obsessively preparing for the new semester, getting ahead in his readings and jotting down notes for potential essay topics and discussion questions or powering himself out on the local football pitch, no matter how bitingly frigid, grey, snowy and empty it was outside. It all served one purpose, of course, which was to forget that there was an unanswered New Year’s Eve text on his mobile phone and the knowledge that he would see Harry again in only a few short weeks. 

At times that thought scared him, because the save distance which he now used to pull up his walls higher and tighter around him would then be nothing but a flimsy distraction. Simultaneously, thinking of getting to see Harry again, even if only during training sessions, orbited by two dozen other sweaty Alpha and Beta lads, and with no chance of anything ever happening between them, elated him so much that he had to actively fight his own body into submission to not get excited. 

It was, as it had been for weeks on end now, a roller coaster of emotions. And it was driving Louis insane. 

At least the freezing January weather was good for one thing, though, because whenever he felt his head became too full, his mind too messy, he ventured outside for a kick-about and in mere minutes the cool air and occasional snow falls sobered him up right quickly. 

Time went by, and despite Louis never figuring what he wanted more — staying at home forever to avoid any future contact with Harry Styles or return as fast as possible for said contact, if only to admire his captain from afar — University was starting up again at the very beginning of February. Louis’ mum took care to drive him down to Manchester, accompanied by his two bags in the backseat full off his accumulated presents, neatly washed, ironed and folded clothes and enough food to probably last him a good fifteen days.

The goodbye wasn't half as teary as the one they had back in October, when his mum was just as unsure about this whole tricking-the-University thing as Louis was and they’d never spent more than two weeks apart. Now, Louis knew where he belonged in that team that was never meant for him in the first place but still became a place of homey comfort. He had a couple of good friends here now. It felt right, all about this, for the most part. It wasn't difficult for him to reassure his mum to leave him to it, that he would be fine, that he knew how to cook some spaghetti and remembered to change his sheets and toothbrush regularly.

After more than a month of being constantly surrounded by six siblings, no matter how much he adored them, Louis couldn't deny how peaceful and relaxing it was to enjoy the solitude of his dorm room. He had two days until classes would start up again and since Louis made sure to be as far ahead as he could possibly be at this point in time, he didn't bother to even look through his books and decided to enjoy some Louis-time instead. His severely neglected Netflix account — something that was apparently possible, he truly had kept busy — had some _Grey’s Anatomy_ queued up for him and Louis could only just be bothered to make himself a cuppa before he settled in for a lazy afternoon nestled up in his blankets.

Apart from a couple of texts exchanged with Niall and Matt, who were both set to return the following afternoon and badgered Louis to join them for reunion drinks at the pub, he really didn't get anything done. By 5 p.m. he was bored stiff, all the characters and plot lines of the newest season not doing much for him, and he contemplated a trip to the football pitch. It would be dark long before he even got there, that much was certain, but there were floodlights there and he could use at least a bit of exercise, maybe run a couple of laps around the field.

He was so used to spending at least a part of his day outside in the cold now that it made him almost anxious to stay in. In a matter of minutes he was up, had changed into some long-legged training pants and an Adidas hoodie and was out the door. He forwent using his bike and made his way to the stadium by foot, with music blaring through his headphones and a beanie pulled deeply into his face. There weren't many students around yet, or if they were they probably preferred to stay inside considering the temperature. Louis was more than all right out on his own.

The locker rooms weren't locked, as Louis knew they wouldn’t be, at least until eight o’ clock. Since he came outfitted in sport gear he marched right through the dimly lit room and onto the pitch. The floodlights were luminous, and even though only two out of the eight were activated it was light enough to make his rounds by. 

Time passed. The running track beneath Louis’ feet felt half-frozen, his feet hitting the ground harder than they normally would. His music was still playing, quieter now so he could concentrate more thoroughly on his breathing, which escaped him in white, foggy clouds. 

There was a dark figure silhouetted against one of the clusters of brightness spreading from the floodlight. Louis didn't think much of it. Many people used the stadium after all, and although the footy team claimed the most and best time slots for practice and games, other students were welcome to train as well. Still, something about the broad-shouldered darkness made Louis uneasy. Surely the person was an Alpha, with a posture like that.

The flicker of discomfort dissolved fairly quickly the closer Louis came, a mixed feel of happiness and apprehension settling in his gut. He knew that person, without a doubt.

Harrys curls were peeking out wildly from a dark hood and his eyes, though Louis couldn't make them out in the backlight, were most certainly following Louis’ every move. He didn't move to approach Louis, but his stance was impatient, restless, as if it took him a lot to hold himself back. 

Not that it mattered. Louis slowed his tempo until he was walking briskly, not even feigning to ignore or bypass Harry, and then it was as if every single comprehensive thought had left him, for as soon as he came up in Harry’s space he fell into his arms, clinging to him like a drowning man in the deepest throws of the sea, desperate to breathe, to survive. 

There wasn't a word exchanged between the two of them for a long, long time. Louis was too occupied by taking in Harry — his body, his scent, the feel of his large hands around Louis’ slim waist, the sound of his ragged breathing, the warmth and longing exuding from him. 

“I hate that I missed you so much,“ Louis murmured against Harry’s throat, his voice shattering the perfect silence that surrounded them.

Harry didn't say anything to that, but his grip around Louis tightened. 

For a blissful few minutes Louis didn't care that whatever they were doing just now wasn't helpful, wasn't smart or in any way to excuse. He didn't consider that he had just spent weeks on end trying to forget what Harry’s scent did to his mind or how one of his innocent touches made his heart flutter. He didn't care that whatever little bit of progress he made while staying at home was smashed to pieces the longer he was buried in Harry’s strong arms, the longer he let this foolishness go on.

They were awful, the both of them, most of all to themselves. 

But for a while Louis wanted to believe that all the pain would be easier to bear if he just made this moment count, used however much time he had to succumb to his Omega-self and soaked up all the affection and attention he had denied himself up to this point.

It was utter bullshit, of course. If he would have spent a second’s clear thought on it Louis would have realised that nothing but more hurt awaited him after this.

“I wish I wouldn’t have to let you go again,“ Harry eventually spoke up. His voice was rough, but Louis didn't know whether that was down to disuse, the weather or some emotion neither of them was brave enough to own up to right this second.

Louis slowly raised his head, trying to meet Harry’s eyes all the while the floodlight’s position was casting a shadow around them. “I can’t believe you send me that message on New Year’s.“ 

“You never answered.“ Harry was serious about it, but Louis felt like hitting him in the face.

“Of fucking course I didn’t. Do you have any idea what you did to me, actually typing out these words. I had half a mind to go and freeze myself to death in the snow outside.“ Louis shook his head. When Harry took a step back, the cold seeped into Louis’ bones in waves.

Harry’s hands were lingering on Louis’ shoulders, though, as if he needed the contact to steady him. “That’s not funny, Louis, don't say shit like that!“

“It’s not supposed to be funny. Fuck, Harry, you should know better.“ A small, bitter laugh. Louis didn't think that their first confrontation would end in something that could very well escalate into a fight, but he couldn't help himself. He had to get this stuff off his chest, if only to make Harry see, understand, and in the wake of it spare the both of them future heartache — as much as that was possible. “I thought you knew your way around Omegas. What did you think went through my mind when I read those words? I hate that my gender has such influence over me and I suppress it so often, so harshly, you know that. But that night … if felt like the Omega part of me wanted to claw its way out of my chest, fangs and talons and all. I hurt so much, and I don't know if all the booze made it worse or even maybe lessened some of the aches, but … I don’t even … I spent an hour locked into a bathroom trying to get my breathing under control. What did you think this kind of message would do? Make me suffer? Because, well, you succeeded just fine, really, Harry, I — did you think that this was easy for me? It’s not, I promise you. It’s just … not.“ The words tumbled out of his mouth as if he had spent weeks preparing to say them, when an hour ago he was just as down to passing over Harry ever sending the message as he had been the past month. But here it was, all out in the open, with hot tears and choked off sobs to enhance the pitiful picture of perfect despair that Louis was. 

Harry’s face was a mask of shattered sorrow, his hands trembling where they held onto Louis. “I didn't realise. I didn’t, I swear. I was drunk and alone in my room, cursing life and genders and ever laying eyes you, when at the same time I knew I meant nothing of it. I knew it wasn't fair to send the message, I didn't even _think_ that it would throw you so completely out of loop. I’m so sorry, Lou.“

And the thing was, Louis wasn't even angry. Least of all at Harry. He was just fed up and lonely even when he had been around his family for a month straight. He was missing closeness and intimacy and really, all he wanted was to kiss Harry and not think of the rest of the world, of their obligations, of the consequences, for a while.

So that’s what he did. 

Standing on his tip-toes to reach Harry, he pressed their cold lips together. His breath was hot, though, and so was Harry’s. For a split-second Louis wondered if he went too far, if he crossed a line that Harry wasn't willing to cross as long as their situation was as pointless as it was, but then Harry’s hands caught Louis’ face, unrelenting, his thumbs wiping away his cooling tear streaks from his cheeks and then, despite the fresh snow beginning to fall around them, it was nothing but all-consuming heat and fire between them. 

Louis had never been kissed before Harry, and therefore never had been kissed like this either, but he was sure that not a person in this world _apart_ from Harry could've ever made it feel that way. The way he took to him, the way they crashed into each other, the way Harry held him — Louis was rarely as sure as he was then, in that moment, that nothing comparable would ever happen to him.

This was it.

Harry was it. 

Grasping that should have scared him, the inevitability of Harry being the one for him, but honestly, there was so much more to be afraid of, like never getting to do this again, that Louis cast aside whatever negative feeling tried to poke it’s way into his mind and let himself go completely. 

Harry was kissing him, tongue and all, saliva-slick and choppy-breath, and it was the best thing Louis had ever experienced. 

“Take me —“ Louis pressed out, when they parted for air, his voice shot and his eyes feeling glazed over. “Take me back to your place, please. Harry.“

If Harry had wanted to protest at all, the little whine in Louis’ voice when he said his name was sure to stifle every contra he might offer up. Louis was aware of that much, at least, however out-of-tune with his Omega-self he was in any other way.

Harry didn't leave much space between them as they made their way back to the locker rooms. Heat still radiated from his body and Louis wondered how that was possible, when the brisk breeze now accompanying the stray snowflakes was enough to make him shiver. 

There weren't any more words exchanged when they entered Harry’s car and it had to be the first time that Louis got in without needing any convincing. Harry gripped his face as soon as both their doors were closed against the unwanted, dreary outside, his mouth trailing kisses over Louis’ cheeks, mouth, down his jaw and across his neck. Louis couldn't do much but remember to breath, abrupt little noises and puffs of air escaping him. 

“Louis, Louis,“ Harry babbled against his skin, leaving wetness in his wake. It took him a bit, but he righted himself in his seat eventually to compose his next words. “Are you sure you want to come? I can’t — I don’t. What do you want?“

Louis felt hazy and heady and still so sure of what he was about to say that it took him by surprise. “I want you. Just … even if it’s just this one time, Harry, I want. You. Just you. Please, please.“ 

Harry made a strangled sound, his pupils growing dilated. He looked flabbergasted with the truth resonating in Louis’ voice, with the earnestness with which he spoke. “You’re sure?“ He nonetheless asked, again.

For a moment, Louis wanted to joke, wanted to roll his eyes, wanted to mock Harry for being so over-the-top careful with him, but then he realises how much this meant. How much he cherished that Harry was so fierce in making certain that nothing that happened at any time in the next minutes, hours, was something Louis would be uncomfortable with in any way, would regret.

This time, it was Louis who leaned over the centre console. He pressed a single, soft-mouthed kiss to Harry’s cheekbone. “I’m sure. Take me back to your place.“ As soon as he settled back into his own seat and fastened the safety-belt, Harry started up the car. Nothing but Harry’s music was breaking the silence. Louis used the time it took them to shut off his own playlist, which was still running on his phone and echoing through his headphones that had been dangling out of Louis’ hoodie forever now, never to be noticed by him as he had been swept up in a thunderstorm of Harry, Harry, _Harry_. 

+++

Louis had never been to Harry’s dorm before. It wasn't all that different from his own, in the end, the room maybe a few feet larger and some degrees tidier than Louis would ever manage to keep his. There were a couple of posters on the walls, an enlarged photograph of last years’ Manchester A-B team fixed above his bed and dozens of books packed on Harry’s desk and the adjoining space. Louis would have commented on it, on anything about it — how he didn't know Harry was such a big reader, how he obviously valued his team to no end, how he was so concerned with order and cleanliness that he wouldn't last a week around Louis, but none of it was fitting or right. The atmosphere between them was tense, but not in an unpleasant way.

Louis knew what he was doing when he asked Harry to take him here. He knew exactly what he wanted. There was a flutter of nerves deep in his belly, expectation and nerves and excitement all mixing together.

Harry’s eyes were still dark when he turned around to him after locking his door. He seemed hesitant, but ready for whatever Louis had to offer. Which was a lucky coincidence, because Louis was ready to give a lot.

In three large steps Harry was back in Louis’ space, his hands back to framing his face, his breath hot as he came closer once more. They picked up where there had left off in the car, shared a couple of almost-innocent kisses, their lips just brushing each others. Louis’ fingers were buried in Harry’s dark jumper, the fabric bunched underneath them.

He had never done this before. He didn't know where to start, what to say, how to initiate anything more than those kisses, those wandering lips and neck bites. He wanted skin and he wanted Harry to take care of him. 

Breathless once more, still, again, Louis took a step back. Harry’s eyes followed his every move.

“For tonight, I’m yours.“ Louis said, his voice barely more than a whisper. He was thankful for the dim light that cloaked the room as he moved to take off his hoodie in a swift motion. The shirt he had been wearing underneath came away with it, leaving his upper body bare and open to Harry’s wide, yearning stare. Standing before him like this shouldn't feel new or unfamiliar to Louis. They had seen each other naked days on end, after every training session in the showers and locker room. Still, this, Harry’s attention focused so intimately and solely on him, every inch of his uncovered skin, felt exhilarating and daunting, strange, too much and not enough all at once. “I’m yours and I want everything, Harry.“

This seemed to be all the incentive Harry needed. Instantly, he was up in Louis’ space again, their dance continuing, his hands roaming over Louis chest, feelingly, slowly, as if memorising every inch of his skin. A second later, Louis found himself flat on his back on Harry’s bed. 

They lost the rest of their clothes in a hurry, but never were they erratic or jerky in their actions. Everything they did felt like a bunch of opposites crashing into each other, every motion and emotion cancelled out with its counterpart and heightened in the process. Just getting naked like this was something Louis would remember for the rest of his life. 

He had never been surer than he was in that moment, stripped bare and vulnerable beyond believe on Harry’s simple twin bed. Harry was looking at him with a reverence that took his breath away.

“Can — can I—“ Harry began, stumbled out, his cheeks bright red, his erection the most astounding thing Louis had ever seen. Not because it was all too different from his own, Louis figured, but because it was the first one he had ever seen on another person, in real life, and close enough to touch. Not that he dared to, yet.

“Everything. You can do whatever you want, Harry. I’m all yours.“ 

Harry looked ready to protest, to chastise him, to shut him up, but whatever the conflicting emotions flickering over his face were about to tell Louis, Harry vanished down his body and it was too late to make anything out. Louis spent a second in confused mid-air — then, his breath hitched as he felt Harry’s breath ghosting over the tip of his erection. His toes were curling in the soft material of Harry’s sheets before Harry’s mouth was even fully on him, just the promise almost too much to take. Sensations as he had never felt them before were wrecking him. When Harry began to softly lick and nip at the head of Louis’ cock in earnest, Louis’ eyes fell shut and he had to keep himself from outright groaning at how good it felt. 

As if he had a seventh sense for it, Harry stopped his ministrations and looked up at him through his full lashes. “Don’t. I want to hear … all of you.“

And of course that was all the convincing Louis needed, for when Harry sank down on Louis cock with true intent, lips ever so soft around Louis’ sensitive flesh, he was moaning with his cheek pressed into the pillow he was lying on. This was the hottest thing he had ever seen, felt, lived through. 

Slick was making its way down Louis’ thighs, his arse wet and ready and Louis never knew he would ever want this, any of this. But here Harry was, so against all the odds, disregarding their future for this moment in time, just for tonight — and Louis couldn't wait.

“Harry … Harry,“ he whimpered, his hands grappling around until they found their way into Harry’s hair, pulling slightly at the dishevelled curls. Everything about this was overwhelming. He knew he would come in a matter of minutes if he let Harry go on like this, but finding his completion this way wasn't what he came here for. Not really. “Harry, I want you. I want you.“ 

Harry released him with a soft, slippery sound that made Louis blush. Harry looked fucked out as he directed his glassy eyes at Louis. To think they’d only been at it for minutes … Louis wanted that face closer, wanted that mouth on his. “Kiss — kiss me.“

Harry obeyed. 

They lost themselves in clumsy caresses for longer than Louis had prepared for. His left leg was incessantly rubbing up and down Harry’s side, trying to get him to pay attention to Louis’ erection again, but even more preferably to Louis slick-drenched behind. He just didn't want Harry to stop kissing him, either. He could barely even breathe.

Harry was all slow, loving, gentle attention. Where Louis wanted to rush, Harry wanted to keep it at a steady pace, take his time. Louis knew he’d be thankful for that in retrospect, all the while now his impatience grew and he mewled keenly against Harry’s lips.

“Come on. Harry — please, I, I—“

“Shh. You promised me the whole night, Lou, and I plan on making good use of it. I’m going to make this something worth remembering, okay?“ Harry’s voice was husky and if he’d planned on getting an actual answer out of Louis he’d have to wait an eternity and a half for it.

Louis was half mad with want and need. He tried to rub himself up against Harry’s body once more, wanted friction, just _something_. He regretted making Harry stop with the blow-job. What was he even thinking? This thought evaporated into nothingness as soon as he felt Harry’s fingers slowly creeping up his thigh. He was running them through the slick that by now perpetually trickled down Louis’ ass, making a mess of his sheets in the meantime, not that either of them cared. 

Louis was whimpering and Harry kissed him into speechlessness. 

And then, just like that, unexpected and anticipated at once, Harry was playing with his ass and Louis felt like coming on the spot. Apart from when he was in heat, Louis had never found his backside to be all that interesting. He was the type of Omega to get himself off with quick efficiency on most days and elaborate slick-play doesn't have any place in that, because it was more messy than it was worth it. Now, he learned to appreciate his body and its functions on a whole new level. Harry’s fingers felt out of this world as they, digit for digit, journeyed over Louis rim, poked sluggishly at his hole, made their way inside. 

Louis was keening and Harry kissed him into oblivion.

Louis wouldn’t be able to tell how much time Harry spent prepping him, because, effectively, this is what he was doing while bestowing pleasure previously unknown to Louis upon him. Everything around him was colourful, happy and mellow and fantastic. He was biting his bottom lip to keep from coming before Harry was even inside him. He wanted this, all of this, and if they had the time, Louis wouldn’t bother holding back. 

But tonight he wanted to have Harry inside him and he wanted to come on his knot.

When he told Harry as much, his words a disarray of whining, pleading noises, barely decipherable, Harry groaned into his mouth and preceded to kiss his way down Louis body once more. Louis wasn't sure if Harry was torturing himself or Louis more. 

But eventually, there was a condom. Louis didn't let his blissed-out state take from him the experience of putting it on Harry’s cock himself. While doing so, fumbling more than he’d like to admit, his cheeks burning, he spent an inordinate amount of time fondling Harry’s erection, savouring every sweet sound that left Harry’s mouth while he was doing so. 

Louis felt exhilarated when Harry finally settled over him, forcing Louis flat on his back again, one leg slung around Harry’s hip. As he felt Harry’s tip against his entrance, he couldn't help but twitch nervously, clenching against intrusion. He was ready, well-prepped, all in, but this … this was still huge. This was his first time. 

Harry, who couldn't miss a single one of Louis’ reactions at this point if he wanted to, attuned to the point of madness, leaned further down to connect their mouths in a lingering kiss. “I’ll take care of you,“ he mumbled lovingly, the most heartfelt truth, and he waited until Louis met his eyes and nodded his head before he dared to continue. 

The first breach twinged, and Louis was sure that even three additional hours of Harry fingering him open wouldn't have changed that. It didn't matter either way, because all the other emotions flooding Louis system at that moment of most intimate contact took the pain right out of his mind. 

Harry inched forward most gently, cautious at all times, his gaze never wavering from Louis’.

Louis heart felt ready to burst from his chest. A couple of stray tears traced their way over his cheeks, and he couldn't tell whether they were tears of pain, of happiness, of fulfilment. Maybe a mix of all of those. He slung his arms tighter around Harry’s shoulders, urging him on, pulling him closer, and Harry complied, all the while leaving feathery kisses across Louis’ face. 

When Harry was buried inside Louis, his entire length taking Louis breath away with how large, how all-encompassing it actually was, nestled so deep, Louis sighed in content. Then, Harry began moving, and every last sane and insane thought left Louis’ mind, forever untraceable.

Louis was in ecstasy and Harry was right there with him, beside him, above him, all around him, in him.

Their kisses turned sloppy, their movements disjointed, their breathing frenzied.

With every one of Harry’s thrusts Louis felt closer to home, closer to him.

It didn't take long, for either of them, to find their sweet release. Harry didn't need to touch Louis, because Louis was more than positive he would have climaxed without the added attention, but of course Harry is Harry and he is nothing if not thorough and generous. 

As soon as Louis spilled over Harry’s hand and across his own stomach, crying out, sobbing with it, with how _good_ it was, he felt Harry’s knot building up within him. If he thought he was full before, it was nothing compared to how he was feeling now. 

If he hadn't known his body was made for this, for this and so much more, he would have been scared. As it was, he was spent and loose-limbed, staring at Harry with clouded eyes that must tell of his utter devotion, and he would take it all, take anything. 

Harry, as if hearing his thoughts, moaned throatily, his voice breaking with it, and Louis felt just as he saw in Harry’s eyes that it was over. The knot was in place, they were joined as intimately as two people could be joined and Louis was so happy he knew there were no words to fully express it. Harry’s come was flooding the condom, and Louis wished that it weren't there, that there would be nothing standing in between them, nothing holding Harry back from spilling inside him, no matter how insignificant that detail was in the grand scheme of things. 

Harry looked ready to collapse, spent, but he took care to position Louis in a way that was comfortable for both of them before settling down, his lips pressed against Louis’ forehead, not kissing, just resting. 

“I don't think I want this to ever end,“ Louis croaked, his voice raw, his fingers curled around Harry’s bicep to anchor himself. 

He felt Harry’s lips twitch against his skin, as if preparing to speak, but in the end silence reigned in. Louis knew why. There was nothing soothing or reassuring to be said. 

It was supposed to be tonight, because everything else, every ambition beyond that would be stupidity, would be sacrifice that they weren't ready for, that _Louis_ wasn't ready for.

There was no need to make that anymore clear. They both felt the ache of it, Louis was sure of that.

Harry drifted off eventually, his breathing turning calm, his body going even more lax. Louis wanted nothing more than to close his eyes right alongside him. 

He knew a bad idea now, though, after the bliss, after the mess made, when it was slapping him in the face. As soon as Harry’s knot was soft and depleted enough to slip out of Louis without trouble, Louis eased himself out of Harry’s arms and off the bed. He winced slightly at the strange soreness that had settled deep within him, a reminder, a punishment. 

Making use of Harry’s en-suit, he wiped himself down with a washcloth, not trusting the sound of the shower to not wake Harry up. It was better this way, leaving now, without elaborate good-byes. Louis was tired of crying, tired of heartbreak, just exhausted. At least this way, the last Harry would remember was the feeling of falling asleep with Louis in his arms. That was better than a teary parting with bitten-back promises and the longing for repetitions that could never happen. 

Back in the training clothes he came in, Louis threw one last look at Harry’s peaceful form, curled up in the bed, his nose buried in the pillow that surely smelled more of Louis than of himself at this point. 

It was a fantasy turned reality and Louis swayed for a moment, pondering if a picture like this wasn't worth it after all. Realising how serious these thoughts turned scared the shit out of him.

Ripping his eyes away, Louis made his way out of the dorm at last, closing the door behind him with care and finality and forcing himself to not look back again. 

+++

During their first team training session on Monday, Louis couldn't meet Harry’s eyes — not because he felt shame or regret, but because he knew that he was close enough to breaking already that just a prolonged second of eye contact could lead him to the beginning stages of a self-induced catastrophe.

Somehow, being around Harry had suddenly gotten a whole lot more dangerous for him.

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just don’t think writing smut will ever be my forte. You'll say I probably shouldn't be writing A/B/O fanfiction then, I know, but I just like these dynamics too much to resist. The struggle is real!


	13. THIRTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhm, yes, this is an actual update in a timely manner. Pure madness, I know. I feel like there is something missing in this chapter and I don't know why or what or how. But it's the chapter I planned out, everything's moving ahead now as it should, coming closer to the end - so I hope you'll like it! 
> 
> Julia x

So life went on. Relentlessly so.

University had started up again, as had the football practices every weekday afternoon, and Louis tried to lose himself in the rush of it. He shone in all his classes, because although he was usually too shy to actually raise his hand and contribute to the discussions except for when he was forced to, now that he had worked ahead he felt confident enough to share his knowledge. Blunders like him not being up to date with the readings didn't happen anymore.

Football was going well for him, too. Coach had just this afternoon announced the players that would be starting in the next game, coming up the following Saturday in Bournemouth. Louis had his position as left forward save once again and he was sure he didn't imagine that the glares Ryan Johnson, his rival for the spot, sent his way were growing increasingly more vicious. Louis made sure to avoid bumping into him in the locker rooms, just to be sure.

As he was sitting bent over his Russian History textbook, Russian History being a new module he picked this semester, and highlighted sections relevant for the short essay he was supposed to hand in a few weeks from now, Louis’ realised he couldn't keep his mind on Napoleon’s invasion of Moscow. He blamed it on exhaustion — even if his day hadn't been anything out of the usual, just a class in the morning and then regular training from two to four p.m. He couldn't tell what left him so beaten down today, but he knew there wasn't much use in half-arsing his preparation if he’d only have to work through it all over again. 

He closed his book with the highlighter stuck in the pages, ready to continue his work tomorrow where he left off today, and made quick work of changing his clothes and crawling into the unmade heap of blankets on his bed.

Fiddling around on his phone for a while before shutting off the lights, Louis couldn't help himself as his fingers hovered over Harry’s name in his contacts. He didn't even want to call, because who calls people anyway, what does one say? Just staring at the set picture was enough. It was a boring photo Louis had taken from the team’s website, where all of the A-B team’s players were listed meticulously, because he and Harry had never come around to taking pictures of each other, with each other. They had never come around to doing loads of stuff and Louis huffed in frustration and misery when he conceded to the truth that none of that would change anytime soon. He didn't even get a proper date, some fancy dinner or childish snogging in the back of a cinema before he stumbled into bed with Harry. Not that he blamed Harry for any of that, obviously. But knowing that Harry would have made such an effort to woo him, to give him nice things, make lovely memories to hold onto, hurt even more, so he didn't let his mind wander down that particular road to ruin.

Falling asleep with the generic picture (that wasn't in any way private or special, but on a website up for the whole world to see and admire) lit up on the screen wasn't one of Louis’ prouder moments. 

+++

Surprisingly, Louis didn't feel much better or any more rested the next morning, though he managed to catch an astounding nine hours of uninterrupted sleep, which was a rarity for him. 

He didn't think much of it, but in retrospect he knows he should have clued in on the signs and really, fucking up the way he did wasn't anyone’s fault but his own.

As in the previous semester, Louis didn't have any classes to attend on Fridays, so he had the entire morning free to himself and only had to turn up to footy practice later on. Since he didn't feel at all up for homework, his head feeling stuffy, he decided to do this week’s laundry and stop by the shops to pick up some milk and instant ramen noodles. 

Needless to say with his lack of motivation he didn't get much more done than the bare minimum. The day had sucked from its very first minute onwards, and not even various cups of Yorkshire tea could do anything to change that fact, get his system going.

When he eventually showed up to the stadium, already changed into his training clothes because he’d worn them all day, too lazy to bother with jeans or some such things, his mood was sour and his body hot and clammy all at once. He longed for a shower already. 

He marched right through the locker room, sparing mumbled hello’s on his way, and once out in the open again he started up a few slow laps. He felt shaky, but the last thing he could use right now was appearing weak or unready for the upcoming Championship game. The season was halfway over at this point and Manchester was pretty high up in the table so far. If they could win or at least draw in the next couple of matches, they could shoot to the top of the list and put the Liverpool and London teams down a notch. Louis felt positive they had the potential to make it. Not with him feeling close to collapsing, though.

The laps helped a little, at least. He felt ready to focus and fight when Coach Collins entered the pitch and called them to him for some tactical discussions, before he forced them through a warm-up that appeared to Louis unnecessarily brutal. At least they didn't spent time on any preliminary exercises, though. This time, Coach divided them into two teams straight away and blew the starting whistle on a 60 minute practice game.

It was, as usual with things like these, way too late when Louis realised that something was actually, completely off with him. While he could have attributed his feverish disposition to the hard, sweaty practice session itself, there were lots of other indicators that should have made him aware of a rapidly nearing heat.

Because _of course_ that’s what’s going on.

His lack of concentration, feeling sluggish and unmotivated, the constant aching in his limbs that he had chalked up to sore muscles from previous training, loss of appetite … It was plain as day, and Louis’ one and only excuse was that this fucking heat wasn't supposed to happen yet. He still had till the end of the month, way after the Bournemouth game. He had calendars and apps and mathematical equations for this. He never made mistakes with his calculations.

What the _fuck_ was going on?

He had taken all his suppressant pills on time, hadn't changed any routines, hadn't eaten anything bad or off, hadn't done _anything wrong!_

Why was this happening, _and here and now, too?_

Tripping over his own feet in the middle of the pitch, the undeniable realisation slammed into him hard enough to leave him gasping for seconds on end. He didn't actively acknowledge sinking to his hands and knees, his breathing growing heavier, his vision swimming and blurring and the game … the game, _what game …_

Blinking himself back into focus, into reality, took a good junk of energy and determination. He first grew aware of the boys around him having stopped running, playing, the ball lying forgotten close to Louis’ teams goalpost, with no one attempting to take aim. The centre of everyones attention had shifted — and with a jolt, Louis realised that they were looking at him. Staring, disbelieving, flabbergasted. 

“What the heck is going on, lads?“ Coach’s voice was loud and impatient, echoing across the pitch. “Tomlinson, get off your arse and do your job, what the —“ His words were cut short, though, and Louis couldn't tell why. He was too fixated on the guys closest to him, in the midfield — he never noticed that most positions here were filled with Alphas, among them Tim Ludovic, Jonah Dryer, Terence Hull and — Harry, of course.

Harry was the only one returning his gaze, looking a unbecoming mixture of weirdly confused and outrightly distraught by the turn of events, which was a curious sight to behold. Then again, Louis was going into full-blown heat in the middle of their afternoon training session, so some distress might be appropriate. Louis would freak out himself, would probably worry himself straight into a premature heart attack, if he could hold it together for long enough to formulate a clear thought.

He couldn't tell why everything was progressing so rapidly now, from one second to the next. The fact that he was surrounded by one big, pheromone-filled cloud of Alpha and Beta boys could play into the intenseness of the situation, though, 

Apart from the unbearable heat that was slowing him down mind, body and soul, his own hormones were about to go into overdrive any minute now. Where before the scent of the Alphas and Betas around him had merely become something he got used to with time, a background nuisance, now he felt like simultaneously sniffing the air greedily and burying his nose in the gras to stop a headache from coming on, the various smells too strong and potent to be taken in all at once. With the scents came the sensitivity, and his body, at every point that was touching the earth or the fabric of his clothing, felt irritated and tingly, at once longing for touch and begging for relief from any contact at all. 

Time seemed suspended to Louis, and apparently to everyone around him as well, because no one was doing a thing. No one was saying a word. Louis felt like a class-A idiot, basically lying in the grass and being gawped at. 

Couldn't someone do — _something? Anything?_

Just when Louis dared to meet Harry’s eyes again, hoping to convey his own overwhelming helplessness, a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. There was Tim, facing a smaller, more compact Jonah, both of them snarling hatefully at each other and if Louis were any bit more attuned to the situation as a whole, he would have sunk into the ground in embarrassment for having two Alphas baring their teeth over him. As it is, he was to busy getting knocked over by Terence out of the blue, the guy so much bigger and heavier than Louis that he went actually down this time, his body pressed against the hard, cold ground, his eyes growing wide. True panic gripped him for a long second as soon as he understood how at Terence's mercy he was in that position, with his face smushed into the cold ground and his backside basically bared, open for Terence’ taking. Terence’s hot breath hit his neck, and Louis fought to turn his head and meet his eyes in the hopes of — he didn't even know what. Terence’ dilated pupils were mirroring Louis’ shock, but more so desire and hazy lust that made it clear to Louis that the Alpha wasn't actually realising what he was doing. 

It took Louis’ sluggish self a bit to begin a real struggle, however in vain it was against the strength that was holding him down, but it proved to be unnecessary soon enough anyway — there was a, plainly, terrifying roar sounding throughout the stadium and Louis would know that voice anywhere, even distorted as it then was — beastly and firecd. In the blink of an eye, Terence was gone, bodily removed, and Louis remained alone — a breathless, writhing Omega in a circle full of Alphas and Betas. The Betas weren't much bother, but some of the Alphas began to look animalistic in their eagerness to get their hands anywhere near or on Louis. 

Louis couldn't do much but cower, his every instinct telling him to make himself small, invisible. His Omega might crave any kind of Alpha right now, as long as they got a fucking knot on them, but seeing himself confronted by a whole bunch of them nothing short of petrified him. 

There was a shuffle amongst the group. 

“Tomlinson, I don't believe _this_ —“ That was Coach Collins again, the only one capable of speech as it seemed, now in their midst. Louis felt a new surge of fear, being perfectly aware that Collins was just as much an Alpha as half the lads on the team were. But the man appeared endlessly calm and collected, completely in control, not seeming bothered by Louis' scent or appearance. “Now, lads, step away, come on. I said _step away_ , Ludovic, for fuck’s sake! Do none of you have any kind of self-restraint? Show some decency! How about some laps?“ 

For a moment, nothing happened.

“That wasn't a question. Take a walk, boys, _now!_ “ Coach’s Alpha bark was resounding and startling enough to move the whole team to compliance eventually, though some of the lads seemed rather disappointed to be made to leave.

Louis slowly raised his head, but found himself unable to meet Collins’ stare. Then, suddenly, he noticed another presence. There Harry was again, or still, submerging from the crowd that had dispersed around him, his face red, his eyes angry, his hands shaking. His hair was all over the place. Louis wasn't afraid for even a second — Harry he knew, Harry he trusted. 

“Styles, didn't you _hear_ —“ Collins began anew, but this time Louis found it in himself to open his mouth, to speak up.

With one unsteady hand reaching out towards Harry, he mumbled, “It’s okay. Harry’s okay. Harry — I want, I want home. Please!“

And then it felt as if the last five minutes, for it really couldn't have been any longer than that, registered in Louis’ mushy brain and a dry, agonised sob escaped him. What the hell? What the actual fucking shit? 

He was done for, finished.

How could he have let this happen?

Although he was half-mad with heat already, the terror of all the consequences that would follow this, this stupid glitch in Louis’ matrix, left him too out of it to even properly acknowledge that his body wanted an Alpha, wanted friction, wanted kisses and caresses and a knot. 

Louis felt nothing short of emotionally traumatised, shaking apart on the ground, losing his grip for good now.

That’s when Harry finally stooped down, his careful, cautious hands immediately going to frame Louis’ face. His voice was soothing and sweet when he spoke. “I’ll take you home, Lou, no worries. Don't worry, okay. Just concentrate on your breathing, in and out. There you go.“ 

After that, everything grew rather blurry for a while. Louis suspected more than he actively realised that Harry pulled him up and into his arms. They made their way across the pitch, through the locker rooms, away from the rest of their teammates who were most likely following their every motion with squinting, suspicious, surprised eyes. 

God, what would Niall say? And Liam? All of them — would they even look at him again? 

Harry was murmuring in an endless, senseless stream, words that Louis couldn't process as he let his head roll feebly against Harry’s shoulders and tried his hardest not to pass out from sheer physical and mental overexertion.

+++

They’d taken Harry’s car, for obvious reasons, but they ended up at Louis’ dorm building, which Louis just noticed when Harry grabbed for the key that Louis had deposited in his back-pocket to open the front doors. 

Only when they arrived in Louis’ room, finally alone and shielded from the world, did Harry take a moment to pull Louis into him, hug him tightly and kiss his lips, softly, once, twice. Louis couldn't do much but go along, the innocent contact so unexpectedly consoling and relaxing that he felt like he could finally take a breath and not fall apart while releasing it.

Maybe it should occur to Louis how absurd it was that Harry’s touch, him simply being around, had such a tangible effect on him. 

“How are you feeling, Lou?“ 

And what a loaded question that was. Louis opened his mouth, but when no sound came forth he just shrugged. He wouldn't have known how to answer anyway, much less how to answer truthfully. 

“Let’s get you out of your clothes and into bed. Maybe you can take a nap before your heat kicks in for real and drains you of your last bit of energy.“

Louis didn't respond this time either, just let Harry lead him to his unmade bed, strip him off his tacky footy gear, push him into the sheets. He felt feverish and sweaty, but thoroughly unaroused. A nap was probably a great idea, would give his body something to go on for the next days that were sure to be restless and consuming.

Everything that would make him forget about the events on the football pitch would do, though. He knew that as soon as this heat was over and done with, Coach Collins would be out for his head. The thought made Louis more queasy than he already felt.

Harry was petting his hair when Louis made himself zone in again. “Do you need anything more? I’m going to pick you up some water and food. Anything else?“

Louis felt his heart stutter. “Don’t leave, please.“ His voice was thin and scratchy. 

“I can’t stay much longer or I won’t be able to hold myself back when your heat kicks in full force,“ Harry admitted, his face torn. Louis wanted to reach out and smooth the frown crinkles on Harry’s forehead, so he did. That Harry was not presumptuous enough to assume that Louis would want to spent the next days with or anywhere near him, Louis was lucid enough to wholeheartedly admire.

Still.

“I don't need you to hold back, Harry,“ he said. “I want — if you want, want me, that is — if you would be willing. Spend my heat with me.“

It was such a game-changing request that nothing but silence filled the room in the aftermath of the uttered words. Harry’s hand stilled its ministrations atop Louis’ head, but he kept sitting in front of the bed, his eyes level with Louis’ and so very serious. 

“Lou, Louis, I would. I would like nothing more than to spend every single moment with you, during your heat and at any other time. But I’m just — I can’t be sure _you_ really want this. Not now, not like this. We never talked about — about anything really.“ A small, self-depreciating laugh made him pause. His sweet breath stirred Louis’ eyelashes, he was so close. “You never told me you’d want me to help you through your heats, because of course not, we don't have — we aren't —“ Another pause. “I just don't want to take advantage of you and your weakened position, do something that you might regret later, hate me for when it’s over. I don't know how much of this decision is you wanting me, and how much is down to your body _telling you_ to want me,“ he finished with a sigh.

Louis, half his face smashed into his pillow, his eyelids growing heavy, his heart rate finally calming down before it was due to rise again in the depths of his heat, felt a surge of pure affection for that stupid, stupid boy in front of him. He wanted nothing more than to cuddle up to Harry, tussle up his curls and kiss down his neck. He was sure, so sure, that spending his heat with Harry would be the best thing imaginable. But here Harry was, all noble and self-less and perfect, reigning himself in.

“Harry, Har— please. Please, please! I know I was out of it before, but I swear to God I am as rational as I’m going to get right now. I want you — with me. Please.“ He shuffled around on the bed, clearing up space. His mouth was pouty, he was sure. “I’m not even hard right now, so nothing but my brain is making my decisions for me.“

When Harry didn't look convinced, didn't even truly smile at Louis’ lazy joke, Louis wasn't at all too ashamed of using every last bit of his current charm to his advantage. He keened a little, in the back of his throat and let his eyes fall half-shut. “Don’t leave me alone,“ he pleaded, hoping to appeal to Harry’s Alpha more than anything. Maybe he wasn't being fair and maybe he wasn't a good person for playing Harry like this when all he wanted was to do what’s best for Louis, treat him right.

But Louis had spent heat upon heat on his own, in constant agony, aching for something he couldn't have, couldn't get to. Now, Harry was here and Harry was good. Harry was love. Louis trusted him implicitly and, so long as Harry was actually up for it, there was nothing, least of all Louis himself and any potential future freak-outs, stopping them from spending the next three days in Louis’ unprepared, untidy dorm room having all kinds of sex. The best of sex. Only sex and more sex. 

For a split-second it looked as if Harry was ready to give in, shuck off his clothes and join Louis in bed. But then he stood up, fast and definitively, taking several steps back. His body still appeared looming and intimidating to Louis, even half a room away, though not an ounce of fear or discomfort could ever take hold of him when confronted with lovely, lovely Harry.

“I’m sorry — Lou, I’m sorry, I want to, so much. But you —“ Harry was shaking his head, never finishing that sentence.

This time, the hurt sound that found its way out of Louis’ mouth was involuntary and pure. Harry walking away, keeping away, just wouldn't do. And with more clarity than he possessed even when cramming for exams, weeks away from any hormone-pheromone-induced sex-crazes, it finally clicked why. 

“My Alpha.“ 

The words were muffled by the pillows that were soaking up Louis’ frustrated tears as well. He didn't plan on Harry hearing, didn't even mean for them to escape his lips in the first place. But there they were, the most solid thing in the fuzzy atmosphere surrounding them.

“What? What did you say?“ Harry asked, voice high, unnatural.

Louis shuddered. “I just — I never even. I mean, I thought you might be … but not _for real_. But it makes so much … so much _sense_. The way your smell, your touch, your presence influences me — how I feel safe with you. My Omega. It must have identified you as my — my Alpha. I don't even — maybe it was during our — “ Turning his head a bit, Louis looked up at Harry again. Harry, who was standing in the middle of the room, desperate and fidgety and confused. Louis blinked slowly. “It’s why I’m more lucid now, able to have this conversation … it must be. Because it’s _you_.“ 

Swallowing and groaning, Louis made to sit up. He didn't know what he planned on doing, on saying. He felt if Harry didn't believe him now, didn't feel the truth of it within himself, there wasn't anything more he could do to persuade him to stay. 

Harry made no further attempt of leaving him alone, though. “Say it again,“ he demanded instead, his eyes large, his mouth ajar, body as slack as it was ever going to get in its standing position. 

Louis, sitting now, pulled his blanket around his shoulders to ward off this chilly air from his overheated body. “You’re — you're my _Alpha_ , Harry.“

Putting it into words, into a complete sentence, felt like the missing puzzle piece falling into place to create one whole, undeniably complete and pretty picture. It fit. 

And finally, Harry seemed to think so, too. It didn't take him another second to invade Louis’ space, slipping on his knees in-between Louis’ open legs, and finding his mouth in a hungry, sloppy kiss. The sweetness was missing now, but Louis didn't mind. With Harry this close, this involved, his heat was flaring up again like a match struck. As if all his body, mind and soul had been waiting for was this admission of the obvious.

“Spend my heat with me?“ Louis asked again when Harry’s mouth traveled down his naked torso, stopping at his collarbones, his nipples, his bellybutton.

“Nothing in the world could make me leave now.“ Harry’s answer war more growl than not, possessive and protective simultaneously.

And wasn't that what Louis had been wanting to hear all along!

+++

With Harry beside him, Louis’ heat took all of fifty hours to pass. It had never before gone by so quickly and while it was all the more enjoyable and way less agonising with an actual Alpha helping him through it, in the end he was most thankful for the shortened time period he spent wantonly suffering. 

They had had a lot of sex, that much was clear from how sore Louis felt, how filthy the bed sheets beneath him were. But really, most of it was a faint memory. He could vaguely remember Harry giving him a hand job, Harry blowing him, Harry eating him out. He can’t truly remember if he returned any of these favours, if he had the mind to, if Harry even let him.

Clearest to him was the first time Harry knotted him during the heat, the way his body had felt loose and slack with the relief of it, how it hat sated him in the most animalistic ways, how he had cried and cried because he was so damn pleased and contented, utterly blissed-out. 

As he woke up late on Sunday evening, realising all this and not immediately falling back into an all-consuming haze of lust and arousal, he understood sluggishly that his heat must be all but over. Harry was sleeping beside him, barely covered by the messy blankets, his body lean and sticky with slick and come, his breathing peaceful. Louis couldn't imagine, now, to ever go another heat without him, without his Alpha.

The thought was still strange to him, unfamiliar, but it felt right and real, too.

He was stretching carefully, hyperaware of his burning backside, when another reality slammed into him: going into heat during training, in front of all his friends and teammates, in front of Coach Collins — a deep, dreadful feeling wound like a vice around his chest.

At once, he was sitting up, pressing a forceful hand to his breastbone to keep his heart from beating straight out of it. Shit. Shit shit shit. It was all Louis could do not to break down right on the spot from the sudden anxiety that gripped him tightly. 

Going into heat like that, even if in all it were only two dozen people who witnessed it, destroyed everything. It might as well have been the whole world, for there was no way that his Omega-status could be hushed up or kept secret any longer under this circumstances. Everyone must be so angry, so mad at being tricked and lied to. 

Louis’ bottom lip was quivering as he tried to hold back the tears of shame and panic and desperation. 

It was then that Harry stirred beside him, because of course he did. In a matter of seconds, with sleep-small eyes and a muffled, tired sound, he had Louis pulled into his arms — half into his lap, fully into his warmth. The hug was firm and grounding and just what Louis needed to keep himself from not falling apart on the spot.

“Harry, Harry, I —“ Louis babbled, but what left his mouth was nothing more than garbled, agitated puffs of sound and air.

Harry hummed calmly, his hand firmly stroking Louis’ back. “I’ve got you, Lou. Remember the breathing, in and out. You're all right!“ 

Louis knew he was anything but all right, but he clung to Harry’s words anyway. He couldn't form a clear thought, couldn't for the life of him even attempt to figure out what he ought to do next. Should he go see the Coach? Should he just straight up go to the university’s administrative office and admit his guilt, leave the school and hope for lenient sanctions for confessing and walking away without a struggle? Would that even help? Did that even make sense? Would the police be involved?

“Louis, you need to calm down.“ Harry’s voice pulled him back. “I know you are thinking about a million and one things right now, but no matter what, you can’t do anything right now. It’s late. Let’s go to sleep, you are bloody exhausted after the last couple days. Tomorrow, first thing in the morning, we’ll take a trip to Coach Collins. You can have a talk and we can go from there. There will be a solution, I promise, love.“ 

Louis wanted to believe him so badly.

“Why did this happen?“ He asked, meekly. “I haven't been careless. I took my pills, I calculated correctly. I wasn't due for another two weeks.“

“I don't know, Lou, I truly don’t. But we’ll find out, all in good time. For now, I want you to breathe and rest. Please!“ 

Burying his face in Harry’s bare chest, Louis nodded pitifully. He didn't have the energy for much, anyway. Even if he wanted to, he would barely be able to make it to the shower before his body would come crashing down, lack of proper food, slight dehydration and the heat high all sure to bring him to his knees. Harry was right — first sleep, then damage control. With a full stomach and a clear mind, preferably. 

Harry settled him into the sheets once more, this time pulling the blanket up to cover them both. There wasn't an inch of space between their bodies, and although they were still butt-naked, both of them were too drained to even think of anything sexual. 

Louis held onto Harry for dear life, sure that his fingers must leave imprints on Harry’s pale skin where he was clinging to him. But Harry didn’t complain and Louis was thankful that his Alpha was still here, not just here for the sex but so much more. He was the one thing keeping Louis upright.

Sleeping — no thinking, no worrying, no stressing, Louis tried to tell himself.

It still took him quite a while to fall into restless, dreamless unconsciousness, of course, because you can’t flick off a switch and ban every undesirable thought from your mind whenever and however it pleases you. 

Harry staying awake with him, though, continuously rubbing his back and kissing his forehead through every disagreeable thought and memory Louis had to cross and fight on his way to sleep, was helping him along quite a bit.

He didn’t feel like dying anymore when he finally drifted off. 

+++


	14. FOURTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was editing most of this chapter while watching Champion's League last night so I'm very sorry if there are more mistakes than usual. But I mean, at least the whole atmosphere surrounding the proof-reading process was fitting, right? Also, I feel like this chapter might not be what you would want or expect, because it focuses on things that I deemed important for now. But there will be one more chapter for all the rest that there is to talk about. And then an epilogue (which is basically done already, so that's positive I think). Because yes, this story is coming to a long-awaited end (and hopefully before the middle of November, because that's when I leave to travel for half a year and I'm pretty damn sure I won't get to write then and I really want to finish the story for you beforehand.) Enough rambling now, please enjoy this chapter (I really hope you will). Also, buy, stream and support _Just Like You!_
> 
> Julia x

When Louis woke up, it was to the smell of freshly brewed tea and toasted bread with strawberry jam. Blinking his eyes open in momentary confusion, he noticed Harry sitting at his desk, phone in hand and a small breakfast arranged on the table in front of him. His head snapped up and towards Louis, though, as soon as he realised he wasn't the only conscious person in the room anymore. 

They shared smiles, wordless and tired. Louis wound the duvet tighter around himself and sat up to lean against the wall, making grabby hands for his cup of tea and Harry graciously complied and handed it over. 

Louis didn't feel much like talking. However confounded he might have been upon waking up, seeing Harry, relaxed, in just his underwear, sitting around his dorm room and feeling the lingering ache in his own body from two days of sex and little else reminded him quickly of his situation. All the trouble he would have to face today and all the consequences that would surely follow him for a long time yet … 

But the tea was good for now. And Harry’s company was better. The silence that engulfed the room was anything but stifling. Instead, Louis felt comforted by just the certainty of Harry being here, with him, caring and attentive and present. 

Louis knew what he had to do, and soon. Still, despite the panic and dread and utter terror that were turning his stomach sour, he couldn't help but be overly glad that he had Harry. His Alpha. Knowing that no matter what the day would bring, Harry would stick with him was the only relief he could fathom of finding right now.

And truthfully, yes, they've not actually talked about anything yet. In fact, they hadn't even broached the whole _“He’s my Alpha, I’m his Omega“_ business at this point. But then, Louis knew what he wanted and he knew how Harry had acted in the last days. If he hadn't been just as sure and confident in his feelings, he wouldn’t have stayed in the first place. When Louis had called him Alpha, Harry hadn't hesitated to accept. Accept the fact, the truth, Louis and everything along with that. Still, that was a whole other topic that needed talking about. Just not today, not now.

“We should take a shower,“ Harry offered up after a while, sniffing the air and wrinkling his nose as if to emphasise his point. Louis snorted, but agreed readily. He ate up the last of the toast Harry had prepared, considering it to be the greatest food he’s ever consumed, although that could just be because he hasn't eaten properly and consciously in a while, before standing up and grabbing his towel.

They went showering separately, mostly to hinder themselves from doing more than just cleaning up the messes they've already made. After the heat they just shared, Louis knew a barrier had been broken down. There was nothing holding them back from each other any longer. Louis wouldn’t have to keep his Omega-secret, since it wasn't really a secret anymore, but most probably common knowledge to everyone that mattered and cared. The consequences would come rolling in anyway, which is why Louis wouldn’t even bother with restraint. If everything else was going to be taken from him, then he would at least grab at this one opportunity of love with both hands. 

It took them a while to get themselves properly in order. Since Harry didn't have any fresh clothes with him in Louis’ dorm, he borrowed some loose joggers and a hoodie that was oversized on Louis anyway. Louis made the effort of actually wearing some nice, dark jeans and a cosy, woolly pullover. He knew that Coach Collins wouldn’t care, that the conversation they were about to have would be unpleasant whatever clothes he was stuck in, but Louis was all for leaving at least a dignified impression. He knew he had catapulted himself into this all alone, that he deserved all the harshness and punishment for breaking so many rules so severely, but he wouldn’t just give up on himself because of it. 

He had a right to defend himself. And he would use it, too. It most probably would be for nothing, in the end, but it had never hurt to try. Louis was too young, too talented, too stubborn, to just resign himself to the unavoidable. 

But all that bravado didn’t inspire the confidence and strength he would have liked to face his Coach with. When Harry and Louis left the dorm building to make their way down to the stadium, where Collins had his offices as well, Louis’ hands were clam, his heart jack-rabbiting in his chest and his breathing constricted. Harry was the picture of calmness next to him, but Louis knew he was worried, too. They hadn't spoken much this morning, mostly communicated in smiles and reassuring touches, but Louis had seen the flickers of concern in Harry’s eyes, even though Harry had done his best to hide them from Louis. 

Surprisingly, there were a couple of students throwing them suspicious and questioning glances as they made their way done the street. Louis knew that Harry was rather famous for being the captain of the A-B footy team and he himself would have garnered some attention by now, since he had played quite some successful games for the team, and of course people who were in the loop would wonder how an Alpha and a “Beta“ could carry the smell of a shared Omega heat with them — because that was something that Louis had learned after showering, when the smell of Harry still stuck to him: spending his heat by himself had never left any scentable traces, but being with Harry sure did. 

They had decided to forgo using Harry’s car — ostensibly because after being cooped up in Louis’ dorm room a bit of fresh air would do them more than good. They both knew, though, that Louis needed the additional time it would take them to arrive to get his mind in order, his heartbeat and breathing under control. Now, with people turning their heads and staring at them, Louis wished they had driven after all.

Even the longest journey had to end at some point. They arrived at the stadium, where some members of the track team used the free space in the morning to train, and after they made their way through the locker rooms and crossed over the pitch into the opposite building, where the locker rooms for visiting teams as well as the Coach’s rooms were housed, Harry’s grip on Louis’ hand tightened. They came to a halt and Louis turned to meet Harry’s eyes rather reluctantly. He didn't want to see pity or even more concern in them. 

Harry looked anything but, though. His eyes were warm and there was a small, comforting smile on his lips. “I know this isn't the time,“ he began, pulling Louis closer by the upper arms until they were standing toe to toe, Louis tilting his head slightly to meet Harry’s gaze. “But I want you to know that I’m proud of you, that I believe in you and that I will fight with you. It isn't fair that you shouldn't get to play the sport you love in the professional climate you deserve just because you go into heat a few times a year. Of course you broke rules and I guess there has to be some inquiry, maybe some punishment, but I will support you every step of the way.“ Louis swallowed heavily, nodding along to Harry’s words and keeping them close to his heart. It meant a lot to hear Harry say all this. “Whatever happens, I will speak out for you and I will take your side, I promise. I will help you as much as I can.“

Once again, Louis nodded. His throat felt too tight to actually get any kind of reply out. Instead, he leaned the last bit forward and let his lips meet Harry’s. The kiss was soft and unhurried and utterly chaste, but it filled Louis with the certainty that he would always have this to come back to. It was a small solace. 

They stood for a moment longer, breathing each other in, before Louis stepped away determinedly, turned towards the door they had been standing in front of, and knocked. Almost immediately, Coach Collins’ gruff voice bid him to enter. With a last look over his shoulder at Harry, Louis inhaled deeply and entered the room. 

+++

Coach Collins wasn't impressed with Louis. Not at all. But that much was to be expected, Louis daresay. As soon as Louis stepped into his office, Collins nodded to himself, offered Louis a seat in front of his desk and then telephoned in two university officials as well as an Omega doctor employed by the university. The time until their arrival, which was obviously pre-planned, was spent in tense silence in which Louis attempted to decipher Coach’s inscrutable facial expressions to no avail. 

Then, the real trial began. It was mostly the university officials speaking, one of them an Alpha woman who was, to say it blandly, a fucking bitch. It was quite plain that she wanted nothing less than an expulsion, a lifelong ban to play football in any professional league (Omega of course, as Alpha-Beta was out of the question) as well as a hefty fine for Louis, who felt his face pale at the suggestions. Out of all of them, she seemed to be the only one thinking that way, though. While Coach Collins hadn't said much of all up to this point, mostly listening with his arms crossed over his chest, lounging in his desk chair and only humming now and then to show approval or disapproval, the Beta university official seemed more understanding, though he stressed again and again that Louis wasn't just deceiving the university but breaking actual, written-down laws. 

However, eventually, it seemed indeed to be the university’s decision whether to press charges or not, something Louis hadn't been aware of. The Omega doctor was, at last, to examine Louis. This served to lawfully determine Louis’ gender once and for all, but was only really relevant for the records, as anyone in the room was more than able to smell the recent heat spent with an Alpha on Louis. 

Louis never got the chance to speak up for himself, to offer an apology or even some kind of explanation. He should have expected this, too, most likely. 

After the university officials ended their endless tirades — the Alpha still more than determined to prosecute Louis to full potential, the Beta just firmly for a notice in Louis’ school records and the immediate exclusion from the A-B football team — it was time for Collins to speak up. 

Louis was biting his bottom lip bloody, because out of all of them, his Coach’s words would matter the most to him. He had never wanted to disappoint Collins, after all the man had done for him, all the trust he had placed in him, the chances he had given him to prove himself, to play, to have the time of his life. But that was over with now. Collins stood up, efficiently hovering over Louis by doing so, and cleared his throat.

“I think all of this is a load of crap,“ he said loudly, and Louis flinched. “And I’m talking to you two,“ he continued, to Louis’ astonishment pointing at the university officials. “I know it was my duty to inform you of the situation and Tomlinson’s true gender, but in my opinion this whole inquisition is utter bullshit. Apart from the fact that the boy hasn't once gotten the chance to defend himself in any way, shape or form, but was spoken about as though some insubordinate child, I really don't know what business it is of yours to come here and attempt to decide shit about the football team for me.“ 

Louis didn't dare to look up, but his heart was beating faster again, hearing those words. He couldn't believe his ears. Collins had never shown much emotion on the pitch, apart from anger maybe, but listening to him now Louis realised how strongly the Coach felt about his team, about the lads in his care, and even about Louis. And though Louis now turned out to be a fraud, Collins was still standing up for him. A wave of something like affection swept through Louis’ chest. 

“Mr. Collins, I —“

“That’s _Coach_ to you, _Mrs._ Vanderbild!“ Collins interrupted the Alpha official, his voice sharp. “And I wasn't finished yet.“ 

“It would do you some good to remember who you're talking to,“ the official snapped back coldly.

“Same goes for you. I am the one responsible for this team, for the boys playing in it. And I won’t have you coming here, insulting me by going over my head under the pretence of actually involving me in any decisions made about Tomlinson’s future on my team, when I am the one who _built_ this university’s football team and the accompanying reputation, who won championships and truckloads of money _for_ this university.“ Collins pushed his chair further away from himself and began pacing up and down behind his desk. All eyes were directed his way. In Louis bloomed some ill-advised feeling of hope, but he couldn't for the life of him crush it. “So now, I’m going to tell you what _I’m_ going to do. And you will listen. If you have any problems with _my_ decisions concerning _my_ team, you are welcome to summon the entirety of the university’s committee of inquiry and we can meet again. But then it will be under my terms, and Tomlinson here will have a proper chance to defend himself, will have the right to a lawyer if need be. Don't think this wily back room business you're trying to pull here will fly with me.“ 

Louis had known that his Coach could deliver a good speech, had experienced this before several games, but this was next level. He felt like applauding him, if the situation would be just half as severe. Nobody else interrupted him, either, and so Collins continued.

“I realise that, since Tomlinson forged his doctor’s certificate and entered this team under false pretences, there will have to be some kind of punishment. A fine, if need be. Some helpful non-profit work for the university, maybe. That will be up to you, I don't really care. But whatever concerns his future on my team is my decision. And for my part, I want him to stay. His gender doesn't matter to me, he is a brilliant left forward and more than able to keep up with any other of my players. I don't see the need to punish him, limit his opportunities, force him down just because his body is wired slightly differently. The time for a change of these narrow-minded gender concepts has been a long time coming, though I’m not willing to discuss this further now. In any case, I’m firmly against Tomlinson being expelled from this university, since his actions, though unquestionably wrong, never led anyone to harm, and you’ll have to fight me if you want him off my A-B team. I won’t diminish my chances of winning this year’s championship, just because a group of bigoted officials want to see some action.“ 

Well. That was that, apparently.

Louis had to fight hard to keep his head down and a smile from his face. Just because Collins had taken his side didn't mean he was in any way redeemed yet. Hell, for all Louis knew the Coach had none of the power he just so convincingly portrayed and would be forced into submission by the university itself.

Still, it felt like a burden had been lifted off Louis’ shoulders. To know that he had the support of at least one of the people deciding over his future meant the world to him and the hope that had been nothing but a seedling before was now thriving. That wasn't wise, Louis knew, but he would take anything that made him feel better for now.

The university officials as well as the Omega doctor vanished shortly after Collins’ speech, which left Louis alone with him once again. He wondered if Harry was still waiting in front of the door — it must have been two hours by now.

Collins, weirdly enough, seemed to think along the same lines. “Tomlinson, why don't you go and fetch your boyfriend. We still have stuff to talk about and I’m afraid he will fall asleep standing up waiting for you out there. I really don't need my captain with severe brain injuries from smacking his head into concrete.“ 

Louis blushed, but hurried to follow the request. How Collins had know that Harry was out there waiting for him, that they were … together, maybe _boyfriends_ , Louis didn't question. Maybe the man had seen him when Louis had entered the room, or smelled Harry mixed into Louis’ heat scents. Maybe even their display on the pitch on Friday had made their intentions towards each other more than clear. Louis wasn't complaining, in any case, because Collins didn't seem averse to his and Harry’s budding relationship and that was just one more plus. 

+++

Harry really looked ready to fall asleep when Louis went to get him. He appeared a little startled by being invited inside to join further discussions, but still grabbed Louis’ hand securely in his and didn't waver on his way inside the office. 

The talks that followed now were way more football-orientated than the ones previously had. 

“Tomlinson, you were present for the show of these two buffoon officials, so you know that there are chances that you won’t get to stay at this university, sadly enough. Which would, of course, also mean that you’ll have to leave the team — that much is self-explanatory. Should you get to stay, though, I will fight for you to be able to stay on the team as well. The situation isn't ideal and I do wish I didn't have to deal with any of this shit, but what’s done is done. Now, let’s discuss eventualities.“

And they proceeded to do so. Collins promised he would get in contact with the board of the University A-B league to see if exceptions could be made for Louis. He seemed pretty determined to get them to make one, at the very least. Louis once again felt touched that Collins would go through such lengths for him. Obviously he knew his Coach was just as concerned about the championship as he was about Louis’ future, maybe more so, but that only worked to Louis’ advantage, so he wasn't going to cry about it. So far, everything looked far more positive that he could have imagined in his wildest dreams. He almost had seen himself stuck in a prison cell already. 

Collins continued on, explaining that even if the University A-B league would allow Louis to stay and play, the chances were still fucking slim in regard to the professional A-B league. The men in power and control there were “a bunch of ancient, conservative and rich Alphas“, in Coach’s words, who would “rather voluntarily crash their Porsches into trees than allow an Omega on the A-B pitch.“ That wasn't confidence-inspiring. On the other hand, the A-B professional league has been a far-fetched dream from the very beginning, and Louis was more than aware of that. Even if his cover had held up, the chances that the scouts would pick, consider or even _notice_ him out of the hundreds of equally talented university footballers had always been minimal. Louis couldn't help the endless disappointment that crashed into him at the point-blank reality of it anyway. 

He couldn't linger on that, though, either. He was more than overjoyed that there might be a chance that he wouldn't have to leave the university and the A-B team and he should focus on that. Give his all for the chance to remain here, for now. That was more than he had dared to hope for when he woke up this morning and it wouldn't do to get greedy now.

It was another hour later that Coach Collins finally dismissed them. He made it abundantly clear that, whatever the decisions ended up being in regard to Louis, and no matter how fresh and heated and perfectly wonderful the relationship between Louis and Harry started out to be, he expected nothing but both of their undivided attention on the football pitch, starting this afternoon during their usual, regular training session at two o’ clock. 

“I swear to God, Tomlinson, you will lose my support faster than you can count to three if you don't bring the quality football I want to see. Understood?“

Louis couldn't help the smile that finally, finally broke free. “Understood, Coach.“ Though the words might have sounded harsh, Louis knew that it would take a good bit of slacking on his part for Collins to lose all his faith in him. That much he had learned today at least. 

A moment later, Harry and Louis were out of the office that had grown stuffy around them. A cool breeze was whooshing over the pitch, which was now deserted, and a glance at his phone revealed to Louis that it was just past 12 o’ clock.

“Let’s go get something to eat — my treat,“ Harry proposed, and Louis gladly agreed, linking his hand with Harry’s. His stomach felt dreadfully empty and if he wanted to show Coach that all his trust was rightfully invested in Louis in a few hours time, he better start off with a good, filling meal to give his body a head-start.

+++

Of course there was much to talk about still. Although Louis had spent ages with Collins and the university officials, nothing was decided yet and the uncertainty of it all left Louis fidgety. Something that didn't slip past Harry’s notice, naturally.

Louis had relayed all that he could remember of the talks that Harry wasn't privy to. While Louis thought that, no matter how convincing Coach might have been, the officials would be the one to get to make the ultimate decisions, Harry, because he was Harry, seemed a lot more optimistic. 

“Look, Lou, Collins was right. The A-B football team brings a lot of money and prestige to the university. They won’t piss the Coach of if they can avoid it. And Collins wants you, more than he wants a new Alpha or Beta on his team. You should feel good about that.“

Louis shrugged. “I do. I’m really flattered that he thinks so highly of me and my — talent, I guess. But I’m just as replaceable as anyone else. And Collins’ backup won’t change me breaking the actual fucking law, you know?“ He sighed, dragging a single chip through the ketchup. The whole day so far has been a roller coaster of emotions — at times he was dead positive that he was going to be expelled without a chance to ever defend or explain his actions, then the next second, stupid hope settled unwelcomely in his chest and tried to convince him that everything was going to be just fine. Louis head was spinning with it.

Harry smiled mildly, taking a sip of his water. The plate in front of him was empty, while Louis still nibbled on his pile of fish and chips. So much for strengthening his body before the afternoon practice. “I think those suits just need a minute to calm down and realise that none of your actions actually demand strict punishment. I mean, shit, you didn't _do_ anything. Like, yes, you lied and handed in some forged documents, but so what? I’m sure loads of people do this every day, everywhere, especially Omegas. And if the world wasn't so unequal and backwards in these matters, most of them wouldn't have to help themselves this way. Fact is that you never hurt or harmed anyone, nobody has had any disadvantage because of you, there is no financial or substantive or other damage to speak of. So all in all, this is bullshit. I think Collins just made me realise that we truly have a chance, fighting back, because the university is trying to blow this way out of proportion. I don't know, Lou, but I think we aren't close to losing this.“

Louis wished he could just feel half as assuredly as Harry did.

+++

When Harry and Louis arrived at the stadium once again that afternoon, having stopped at both of their dorms to change into fresh training clothes after lunch, their arrival ensured quite some attention. 

Louis kept his head down. He felt the confusion in the air, the wondering gazes on the back of his neck, questioning whatever he was still doing here now that he was so obviously identified as an Omega. After the day he’s had, he really didn't feel like garnering any more attention. Then again, with Harry so close by his side, holding his hand, again, still, a constant source of solidity for Louis, was there any way to not capture everyone’s attention? They were basically giving a statement with this kind of turn up. 

Louis almost toppled over when someone suddenly jumped at him, his hand slipping from Harry’s as he stumbled, caught of guard by the force of it. His first irrational thought was that he was facing an ambush from an angry, hormonal team mate. Then, the familiar smell of Niall’s shampoo flooded his senses, and automatically Louis’ arms closed around his friend, returning the hug that he was apparently _violently_ given.

“You little shit,“ Niall exclaimed, his voice echoing through the locker room, boisterous as always. “I mean, wow, you really had me fooled! But man, you should have fucking _told me!_ “

Louis grinned weakly when Niall let go of him, but still remained all up in his personal space. Harry observed them amusedly from close by. “Not telling anyone was kind of the whole point, Niall,“ Louis said, shrugging self-depreciatingly, flicking his fringe from his eyes. 

Niall laughed at that, though currently Louis failed to see the humour in the situation. Fortunately, he didn't have a chance to dive into another round of doubt and despair, because as he so often managed, Niall had broken the weird tension that had taken up residence in the locker room upon Harry and Louis’ entry. Now, more boys were streaming towards them, bombarding them, but mostly Louis, with questions, expressing their astonishment and shock at what he had pulled off for the last several months. Amidst of all which they were also slapping his and Harry’s backs in apparent congratulation.

It was surprisingly easy, the whole encounter so simple and blessedly uncomplicated that Louis didn't take long to unfreeze and join Harry in giving some basic details about the situation at hand.

“So, they really think about punishing you for this?“ Matt asked disbelievingly from where he was lacing up his cleats on one of the benches. 

“Well, Lou did fake that doctor’s certificate,“ Adam argued, although halfheartedly. “That is actually a criminal offence.“

“Yes, thank you, we’ve heard quite enough of this already,“ Harry rolled his eyes, pushing the forward playfully aside. Louis knew Adam was just stating the facts as he saw them, not necessarily with the intention of making Louis feel worse.

“For real though, that’s not genuinely fair? I mean, you didn't … like, I don't know, commit an actual crime.“ Mick picked up Matt’s train of thought.

“It seems a bit excessive,“ Liam agreed from his place beside Harry, still fighting to pull on his jersey. “Still, the university would be in the position to press charges, so I guess anything that doesn't lead to that would be good, right? Better expelled than facing an actual legal trial.“ Louis wondered, sometimes, if Liam could be anything but stubbornly practical in all his doing and saying. 

In any case, he was tired of these talks, these endless musings, the repetition of thoughts he went over in his mind a million times already since this morning. Going by the momentary situation, though, he would have to undergo quite some more of them in the future. Figures that everyone wanted a shot at giving their opinion on the matter. “I’ll see what happens, I guess. I can’t do anything about it now, just wait and see what they decide to do.“

“Well, we have your back, Lou! All of us!“ Terence promised sincerely, and it meant a lot to Louis, no matter how pissed off Tim Ludovic and his friends looked, standing slightly apart from the group gathered around Harry and Louis, blatantly posturing their disapproval.

“Thank you, guys, I appreciate it!“ 

“Enough now,“ Harry stepped in. “Out on the pitch, everybody! Coach had a stressful morning, no need to annoy him further.“ 

“Calm yourself, _boyfriend_!“ Luke mocked teasingly, which made a round of good-natured laughter go up in the room. Still, Luke lead the way and one boy after another the entire team spilled out of the locker room and onto the pitch. Collins was in position already, whistle at his lips, and there were no words wasted. In the blink of the eye, Louis found himself running laps and it felt like the most refreshing and normal thing he’d done all day. 

There were no further mentions of Louis’ Omega status all throughout practice — neither the Coach seemed it to be a relevant topic to cover, nor did any of the boys raise any more questions or, in Ludovic’s case, maybe even complaints. Training continued as it would on any other day, relentlessly, sweaty, exhausting. 

It was by far the best thing to get Louis’ head to close down and shut up for a while. His heart, however, skipped a beat whenever Harry ran past him and brushed his fingers along Louis’, or met his eyes across the pitch during their practice game. 

It was hard to fathom and maybe even to accept right now, but he knew, whether they have extensively talked about it yet or not, that after all was said and down and judgement passed upon Louis, Harry would still be there with him on the other side. Perhaps by then, Louis wouldn’t have everything he fought and wished for all his life, the football career he dreamed of, but with Harry, there would be something new and special all ready to explore and discover for Louis. Who could tell now how important that aspect of his life would still become to him?

He was young, he had options to explore. Something would fit and everything would turn out how it was meant to be.

+++


	15. FIFTEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the beginning of the end! The last chapter before the epilogue. I'm so excited to finally conclude this story and I hope you will like the end I've figured out for this one. It's actually different from what I originally had in mind, but this felt right now. I guess there is a lot going on in this chapter, but it felt non-sensical to split it into two, honestly, so I hope it won't feel rushed or forced. The epilogue will be up this week, that is actually a promise, because I'll leave for my trip next Monday and I want to finish this all up before travelling for half a year and not leave you hanging once again. 
> 
> I want to take a moment here to thank all of you who have read this story from its very beginning last year and have waited patiently ever since for my updates (but of course also those of you who have joined later on or are maybe even reading the completed work!) I can't believe how many comments and kudos this story has gotten and it makes me so immensely happy that so many of you like it so much! Thanks for your support and encouragement and all the lovely words you left me, either here or on tumblr. I love you!
> 
> Julia x

There was a letter waiting for Louis a few days after that fateful Monday. It was printed on heavy paper and had the university’s emblem all over it, and Louis didn't need to be a genius to guess what the content would be about. Instead of opening it, though, Louis stuffed the letter between two of the books currently residing on his desk, not to be seen, and proceeded to watch _Full House_ on Netflix. He knew whatever the insides of that envelope would say would have a huge impact on his future and therefore his whole life. And admittedly, he wasn't strong or composed enough to go through such news all on his own.

He periodically checked his watch, impatiently awaiting Harry’s return, barely able to concentrate on DJ’s high school troubles. If only his problems were as simple as wearing an unfortunate outfit to the first day of classes. He knew Harry would stop by after his dinner meet-up with his Alpha roommates. The both of them had spent most of their time together in Louis’ dorm this past week, even though Harry’s was much bigger and would be a more comfortable space for two. But there was something about Louis’ humble room after they’d spent his heat together in there and without ever having to talk about it, it had become their most favoured place to be.

Harry had stored some of his stuff in one of Louis’ drawers, a toothbrush and some toiletries always handy. They weren't living together, by no means, that would take their whole relationship one step too far, far too soon. But Harry liked to spent every other night here, and even if he didn't stay, he at least liked to spend a few hours with Louis after training or in between classes. Louis wasn't complaining. 

They had finally managed to have something resembling a relationship-talk. But once they had sat down and decided to talk about it, it became glaringly obvious that there wasn't actually anything to talk _about_. It was surprisingly simple. Louis had developed the deepest of feelings for Harry, and Harry returned them, as passionately and whole-heartedly. They hadn't said those three, oh-so-important-and-meaningful words yet, but Louis was certain that if the both of them were put on the spot, they would declare their “I love you“’s without much fuss. Easy as that. 

It had all been rather obvious from the moment that Louis had called Harry his Alpha. Those were words not uttered lightly, never had been in the grand scheme of things and the history of the world. Louis didn't think he’d ever say them to anyone, if he was perfectly honest. Not only was there the problem with accepting himself as he was, Omega status and all, because to claim someone as the Alpha to your Omega meant to be sure and secure in your own gender role, didn't it? He had also been fiercely certain that he would never fall in love with anything but football. Things had changed now, evidently, and no matter that he was half lost in heat when he spoke to Harry that day, those words were said with nothing but sincerity. 

And Harry had reacted to them, had received Louis’ offering, so to speak, and acted as he himself and his inner Alpha felt it was right and true. All in all, it had lead to the both of them spending Louis’ heat together and Louis was certain that Harry didn't regret a minute of the time and space they've shared since then — and neither did he himself. 

So here they were now. Louis, stuck in the most complicated and troublesome situation that he would encounter in his life, most likely, and Harry a constant by his side. An Alpha was someone that Louis had never wanted or desired or believed he needed, but now he realised that being connected with someone on this level, so intimately in every way, was not only a relief in all sorts of way, but a consistent system of support and love that he could have never dreamed of, but now didn't want to miss for a minute.

Maybe he should have been aware of this all along — and he might have been hadn't he so desperately tried to destroy everything Omega about himself — but being an Omega and bonding to an Alpha didn't make him weaker or meeker, didn’t leave him at the mercy of a more powerful human being. No, on the contrary, if anything he was stronger, more resilient, unspeakably cosy and oh-so-happy. 

So that was that. 

What more should they talk about, really? Why complicate their newfound bliss with unnecessary words and phrases, why wonder about what the next day or week would bring, what society expected of them, even? 

In a year or a decade or never, even, if they didn't feel like it, they would or wouldn't bond, and Louis could or couldn't wear Harry’s bite-mark on his neck for the whole world to see and be proud about it. For now, they were boyfriends, and that was enough and so much more than just good. 

Louis was startled from his thoughts when the door to his room opened. Harry, a small duffle slung over a shoulder and a beanie on his head, stood in the entrance way, smiling brightly as soon as Louis’ eyes landed on him. The smell of fried food spread into the room, and Louis felt his face light up.

“Did you bring me dinner?“ He asked, and he would deny forever and always that his voice sounded devoted. 

“Maybe I did. What would I get if it were so?“ Harry replied, closing the door softly behind him and dropping his baggage on the floor. His hair was adorably ruffled when he pulled the hat of his head. 

“Lots and lots of kisses,“ Louis promised instantly, closing his laptop without another look and instead making grabby hands towards his boyfriend. That was still a fairly new term to him, but one he grew fonder of with every instance it crossed his mind or left his lips. 

“That sounds fair,“ Harry nodded, grabbing a small take-away container out of the mess of his things on the floor and making his way towards the bed. Originally, Louis had planned on getting at the food as fast as possible, but as soon as Harry was in reaching distance, other desires won out. He wouldn't describe himself as needy as he pulled Harry into himself and littered his face with chaste kisses, all the while shoving their bodies closer and closer together, but he figured others might very well would.

“I could get used to such a welcome,“ Harry mumbled, not any less willing to share the affection. The take-away box found a place at the foot of the bed and was quickly forgotten. 

“Missed you,“ Louis sighed as soon as they broke apart, his hands still interwoven in Harry’s messy curls. 

“You’ve seen me at practice just this afternoon.“ 

“Still,“ Louis replied poutingly. 

Harry’s only response was to nip on his nose. They both settled more comfortably on the bed, and Louis was sure Harry minded as little as he himself that it was so narrow that they had to stay close if neither of them was supposed to fall off.

“How was dinner?“ Louis asked eventually, his fingers now playing with the hem of Harry’s hoodie. 

“Great, actually. Liam did join us after all and I’ve told you about Max, he is hilariously brash. Liam couldn't stop blushing at the stories he was telling, you would've loved it. You should join us sometime.“ Harry grinned at him happily and Louis couldn't help himself as he leaned in for another kiss.

“That does sound like something I’d enjoy,“ he agrees. He knew Harry liked spending time with his Alpha mates, and Louis didn't actually plan on tagging along like a puppy that couldn't be on his own for a while, but that Harry offered meant a lot still.

They talked idly for a while, before Louis pounced on the box of french fries and a cheeseburger Harry had brought him before the food grew all too cold and flabby. They watched some more Netflix, a cooking show Harry was a huge fan of this time, before Louis bothered to remember the letter he’d received. 

He got up sluggishly and pulled it out of the books he’d stuffed it into, before handing it to Harry. 

“You have to open it and tell me what it says. I can’t read it“, he ordered, his voice firm. 

Harry looked at the letter confusedly, then up at Louis, surprised. “How long have you had this?“

“Just found it when I got home after practice today. But I couldn't open it.“

Nodding slowly, Harry scanned over the envelope again, then reached out and pulled Louis back towards the bed. “Come here, then,“ he said, and the both of them leaned against the headboard of the bed, eyes focused on the letter.

Louis couldn't look as Harry ripped open the envelope and pulled out two pages of creamy paper. He read them fairly quickly, but Louis was still growing restless fast. “Is it bad? Am I expelled? Do I have to go to jail?“ The questions burst out of him as soon as Harry lowered the paper. 

“Nothing of the sort, for now,“ Harry said, his composure relaxed enough that Louis felt automatically calmed, too. “They just stated what they've learned so far of the whole affair, meaning mostly that talk you had with the two officials, the findings of the Omega doctor and Collins’ initial statement. Now they want to hear your side of the story. They want you to write a statement, explaining your reasons and motives and whatever else you can think of relating to the situation.“

Louis was silent at that. He had expected some kind of judgement already. He didn't think he’d get to tell his story at all. Relief, for now, flooded him. But with this turn of events new pressure came along as well. He would have to put his all into his return letter. He would need to be as convincing as humanly possible. Before, he could have blamed any consequences on the fact that he didn't get to defend himself. But now it was actually his turn to change the mind of these people with an honest, conclusive, credible account. 

“That doesn't sound all too bad, does it?“ Harry mused as the quiet began to stretch. “At least they finally give you an opportunity to explain yourself.“ He took Louis’ hand and squeezed it decidedly.

“I guess so,“ Louis shrugged, biting on his bottom lip until Harry captured his mouth in a kiss to keep him from making himself bleed. It was too short and sweet to really distract Louis. 

“Look, nothing bad has happened yet. Don't be so discouraged. Chances are everything will actually turn out all right.“

Louis closed his eyes and took as deep breath. Upon opening them again, he nodded once, determinedly. “You’re right. I’m going to write a letter that will move them to fucking tears and they won’t have the heart to do anything but let me stay and continue to play football for the A-B team.“

Harry chuckled. “That does sound like a battle plan.“

“I’ll say!“

Although he didn't feel half as confident in his ability to write a persuasive statement as he’d like to, he knew with Harry’s help they’d put together something decent. He’d have his mother read it over, too — she’d been on his case ever since he first called her, after his heat outing and the talks. Maybe he really could turn this around, somehow. 

With a positive person like Harry by his side it really was hard to stay all gloom and doom. 

+++

The next week Louis spent almost exclusively writing on his statement. There wasn't a deadline given in the letter he’d received, but he figured he’d leave an overall better impression if he turned his statement in as quickly as possible.

He was re-writing and deleting entire paragraphs by the hour, which left him practically every day with a completely new, different version of the whole thing. They were all true, of course, Louis wouldn’t dare lie now that he was found out anyway. He knew being blatantly honest was the best way to go. Still, so much depended on every article and particle he used or didn't use, on every additional or missing adjective, every piece of punctuation. The letter he would return to the university’s committee of inquiry needed to read absolutely perfectly — he couldn't afford hiccups in expression or even the most insignificant of spelling mistakes. He needed to sound refined and convincing, that much was obvious. But it couldn't hurt to also go for the relatable, boy-next-door route, because that would be the only thing, if anything at all could, that would maybe move those old, Alpha suits, wouldn't it be? Maybe being reminded of a son or granddaughter that had to miss out on an opportunity because of his or her Omega status would actually get him some of the goodwill he needed to get the committee to rule in his favour. 

He was ready to skip his classes and seminars to continue writing, but it took Harry barely a second to dissuade him from that train of thought. 

“You are aware that you are on thin ice already, aren't you?“ He had asked, smiling, because when was he ever not around Louis. “Don't you think cutting classes will leave a bad impression if the officials catch a whiff of it?“ 

He’d obviously had a point and the discussion was quickly done with. It didn't stop Louis from writing till late into the morning hours, though — more than once Harry had woken up to the sounds of Louis’ aggressive typing and hauled him into bed, decidedly ignoring any and all protest — and waking up early enough to have time for another read-through before uni started. 

Harry must have read half a dozen drafts by now, most of which he declared to be really good. Louis wasn't sure about any of them, naturally. One he thought to be too extensive and broad, the other too colloquial, a third seemed to him to not elicit enough emotions in the reader. But whenever he tried to combine one thing with the other to work out a flaw, something else came too short or fell flat. 

By the end of his non-stop writing week he barely recognised himself in the mirror — his face was ashen, his hair unkempt, the shadows under his eyes violet, his lips chapped and bitten raw. Along with his regular seminars, football practice every afternoon and his writing marathons he was exhausted beyond belief. 

Harry finally put a stop to it on Saturday morning, when he woke to Louis pouring once again over his laptop. “This has to stop, Lou,“ he began, turning Louis’ entire desk chair to face him instead of the open text document filled to the brim with notes on the screen. “You know I would never willingly go full Alpha on you, but I will if I have to. You need to take a break before you collapse. Save that document, then pick out the draft you feel most confident in _at this point in time_ and we’ll send it to your mum and leave Coach Collins a copy, too, and listen to what they’ll have to say. Maybe they have some useful tips, find some mistakes we can’t even see anymore because we’ve read through the documents too often, and then we’ll go from there, deal?“ 

Louis was more than reluctant and he’d have strongly objected to Harry taking the reins just like that, but he did feel bloody drained and most likely Harry was right about this. It was time for a third and fourth person to read over Louis’ draft and gave their opinions. 

As soon as they decided on the version that Louis thought to be the strongest and distributed it to his mum and Collins, Harry dragged him outside. They took a walk through the small park closest to Louis’ dorm building and had ice-cream although the March weather wasn't nearly warm enough to justify that, really. But the rules and laws of nature had never held any particular sway over Louis and if he wanted to eat ice-cream while still wearing a winter coat and gloves he’d do just that. 

That was when Harry decided to bring up the topic of his upcoming rut. Louis sputtered over a lick of mint chocolate chip at the unexpectedness of it.

“Obviously, it’s not the time for it now,“ Harry concluded, resolutely.

“How do you mean?“ Louis questioned instantly. 

“The time for us to spend it together,“ Harry clarified, the answer was so matter-of-fact that Louis couldn't help but gape up at his face. 

“What? Why? Don't you want me to share your rut?“ It was hard to keep his voice neutral, because the thought that Harry might actually prefer to be apart from Louis during this time definitely stung.

Harry stopped short, his brows furrowed as he pulled Louis to the closest bench to sit down on. “Of course I want you to be with me. During this rut and every single one that is yet to come. But there are a lot of reasons for us to hold off this once, don't you think?“ 

Louis didn't feel very fond of his ice-cream any more. He actually couldn't think of a single reason and he said as much to Harry. He hoped his face didn't look as disappointed as he felt it must look. 

Harry pulled him closer, his hand gentle on Louis’ upper arm. “Well, for one, you are stressed out enough as it is. If you were to spent the rut with me you’d miss another three to four days of uni and football practices. There’d be a lot of work you’d need to catch up on after and that all in addition to the proceedings you have to keep up with regarding your case with the uni officials. And I’d thought the last reason was fairly obvious.“ Harry grinned lopsidedly, a dimple popping up. 

“What reason is that supposed to be, then?“ Louis asked flatly, uncomprehending. 

“Well, we still don't know what brought on your heat early. There are a myriad of factors that could play into it, I guess, nature is weird like that, but what if it’s your suppressants, for instance? What if they are faulty or not potent enough anymore? Just don't work like they should, no matter how regularly and dutifully you take them? Haven’t you thought of this? Because I have a lot. I mean, it was almost stupid of us to have sex during your heat without using additional protection when we weren't even sure why your body decided to start early. For all we know you could be pregnant right now, because of what —“

Harry stopped talking abruptly and Louis was more than thankful, because he was pretty sure his facial expression had derailed spontaneously. He didn't even notice that he wasn't holding his ice-cream cone anymore, the chocolatey mess melting on the ground now, ignored.

“I mean, I’m sure you aren’t,“ Harry back-pedalled hurriedly, his grip on Louis’ tightening, his eyes comically wide as if he himself had just understood the severity of the words he so bluntly put out there. 

“What the fuck, stop talking for a moment, please. Fuck!“ Louis held up both hands, restlessness seizing him rather promptly. He jumped up off the bench and began to uneasily pace in front of Harry. He just … needed a second. _Just a second._

How had _he_ not thought of that? Was he actually fucking stupid? For a while he was so agitated he felt like screaming, but Harry keeping his calm and letting Louis sort out his at once jumbled, messy thoughts without interrupting him either by talking or with placid gestures helped him to get a grip eventually. 

He sat down again, throwing his head back to watch the grey, cloudy sky.

Frankly, Louis was appalled that he hadn't considered any of this. Of course the question why his heat had started early had been relevant in his mind for a hot second, but then all the troubles of his unintended outing had just had … priority. Louis hadn't been in the space of mind to search out a doctor to talk to and all his half-hearted google searches had prompted him to assume was that his first time with an Alpha (and maybe even his first time, stat) had probably something to do with it. Confused his suppressed hormones or some such shit. Louis was more annoyed with every result along these lines he stumbled upon. Wasn't that a fucking joke? How was he supposed to know about that? Someone should have warned him. Then again, it’s not as if he had visited an Omega doctor regularly enough to actually be all that informed during the last years of his life. Still … still! 

Still, now Harry sat here cool as a cucumber suggesting that Louis could be, what, _pregnant?_

Well, excuse the fuck out of him, but he needed a couple more deep breaths to deal with all that.

“I’m not pregnant,“ he concluded finally, turning his head in Harry’s direction again. He couldn't pinpoint the expression in Harry’s eyes. “Last week, in Collins’ office with the university officials — an Omega doctor had been present to conduct a couple of tests, you know, so that they could put into their files that I’m truly an Omega, whatever. He took a blood sample and I’m pretty sure he would've gotten back to me if I were pregnant. I mean, that’s kind of his job, as a doctor, isn't it? Like, same if I had some kind of disease — he’d have to let me know!“ 

Harry shrugged, not looking convinced. “Well, your heat had only just ended then. Would it have even been detectable?“

Louis groaned, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. “Harry, I love you, I really do, but I will hit you if you don't _shut up_ already, Jesus!“ 

Another silence followed these words, but this time it felt differently. It took Louis a beat to realise the words that had spilled out of his mouth, unbidden. 

Harry’s face was aglow with the brightness of his smile when Louis dared to look, all prior concern washed away, and he didn't waste time before he kissed Louis thoroughly. “I know, me too. I love you,“ he mumbled, his voice so dazedly delighted that Louis had to actively stifle an eye-roll. 

“That was fucking unspectacular, wasn't it, as far as love vows go?“ He exclaimed instead, forcing himself to sound nonchalant. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, the traitor.

Harry grinned, not fooled by Louis’ act. “Still nice, though.“

“You are a soft soul, aren't you? Wouldn't have suspected it after our first couple of encounters, to be honest, because you were a fucking prick, but beneath all that you really are a cheesy sap!“ Louis couldn't help but chuckle at Harry’s hysterically indignant expression.

Really, though, Louis didn't deserve to lord this over Harry. Hadn't he himself just a few days ago thought how needless it was to exchange these three little words? And now, sitting here with his Alpha, he couldn't deny for a second how completed he felt hearing them. Life was ironic like that, or something.

+++

Louis refused to buy a home pregnancy test, alternatively opting for making a doctor’s appointment for Monday morning, which Harry was all for. They didn't speak again of Harry’s rut or the baby-bomb Harry had so casually dropped and Louis was good with that. 

He was pretty certain he wasn't pregnant (or more like couldn't believe that his body would betray him any further than it already had, but whatever). For his and Harry’s peace of mind he’d do a check up to make it certain and be done with it. Also, he figured a real doctor’s visit and an update on his suppressants could do no harm. Harry had been right after all — he shouldn’t have been so careless; it was highly overdue that he found out the reason for his untimely heat.

Working on his statement for the university was a welcome distraction all through the long Sunday hours. Whenever Harry tried to protest and get Louis away from his laptop screen, Louis reminded him that he wouldn’t feel the need to be so intensely concentrating on a task if Harry hadn't felt it necessary to point out his fertile womb to him. Harry pouted a large part of his day away. 

Louis, at last, was content when the both of them turned off the lights to sleep that night, though. “I think I have my final draft,“ he confided, voice soft in the dark.

“Yeah? Sounds good. Did your mum’s and Collins’ suggestions help?“ Harry’s arms tightened around Louis’ middle. 

“They actually really did, yeah. I’m quite happy with how it turned out now. I think I might actually have a chance, you know, to get away with a humane punishment.“

He felt Harry’s lips brush over his cheekbone. “I’m proud, Lou. I know it will be all right.“ 

Louis couldn't count the times Harry had said these words over the last two weeks, but slowly, hesitantly, he maybe dared to believe in them, too.

+++

After five minutes spent in the presence of the Omega doctor he’d managed to get a last-minute appointment with he knew he wouldn't return to this clinic, for sure. The man didn't even try to hide how much he disapproved of every single one of Louis’ life choices, but really, Louis didn't come there to be judged for pre-marital sex and slightly irresponsible pill habits by a middle-aged man stinking of cigarette smoke and without a wedding ring himself.

For the duration of this one check-up it was bearable, he told himself, though, and quietly sat and endured the man’s inane chattering about the proper handling and regular re-prescription of suppressants, the importance of protection during any and all sexual intercourse and the need for a heat-calendar, as if Louis hadn't told him plainly enough that he had kept meticulous notes about any heat he’d ever had, catalogued every symptom he’d ever recognised and had never been wrong with his calculations. It wasn't his negligence that had caused his heat to be early — if Louis was sure of one thing, it was that!

In the end, the doctor’s best guess was just as good as Google’s. Without being more familiar with Louis’ previous medical history, he deemed it most likely that Louis’ first intimate contact with an Alpha might have set in motion some hormonal oscillations and his Omega had become a bit confused. Louis was just as dissatisfied hearing the explanation out of a doctor’s mouth as he’d been upon reading it in the Google search results. 

Eventually, after giving blood and urine samples, some more waiting time and a consultation on new suppressants he was supposed to take from now on, the doctor stated that Louis wasn't pregnant.

Louis couldn't help but feel rather indifferent upon finding out, and for a moment he feared he was a heartless bastard for taking it so in stride. He should be feeling some kind of way about all this, shouldn't he? But then again, after his short-lived rush of panic on Saturday, he really hadn't let himself take the possibility of a pregnancy seriously. He hadn't for one moment entertained the idea that there was actually a baby growing inside him. It just hadn't seemed plausible, hadn't felt right to even think it. He couldn't explain the feeling, really, but deep within him he just knew that the time hadn't come yet. 

And that’s exactly how it was. 

He wasn't pregnant and he wasn't disappointed or relieved or sad about it. It was what it was. 

Upon leaving, the Omega doctor advised him to sit this one rut out to give his body time to attune to the new suppressants and exclude the risk of an actual pregnancy. That Louis was a bit peeved about that he couldn't deny.

+++

A month went by and Louis was getting fed up with the university’s oh-so-wonderful committee of inquiry. He was getting fed up with _waiting_. He’d handed his statement in as soon as he was convinced that he couldn't possibly do a better job composing it. The committee, in the meantime, hadn't even deigned to let him know about the progression of his case.

On the one hand-side, he thought maybe not knowing about the final decision was a blessing, in the event of it turning out really negatively for him after all. But then, following weeks and weeks of waiting for any kind of response, any kind of message — good or bad — Louis realised he was growing tired of this uncertainty rather quickly. 

It was fortunate that he was still able to get his pent up energy and rage out during the daily football practices. And Coach Collins wasn't complaining in the least about Louis’ commitment and engagement, which lead to Louis starting in the two most recent games, both of which had been wins, the first a spectacular one. 

When Coach had told him he was allowed to start at all, Louis had been over the moon with joy. He knew that convincing the board members of the A-B University League to let Louis play despite his gender must have been quite an effort. Maybe they only agreed to it in the first place because they wanted to see Louis fail under the new pressure.

He didn't give them that satisfaction, though.

Louis knew on that day of his first game as openly Omega on a pitch full of Alpha and Beta players everyone’s eyes had been on him. 

He knew for a fact that the game had been viewed on TV and re-viewed online by millions by now. Still, it took some time for Louis to realise that he had, unwittingly, become a scandal in the football scene. An Omega playing successfully amongst Alphas and Betas hadn't been previously witnessed in the world of first class football in Great Britain. 

Louis had been more than nervous walking onto the pitch that first Saturday as an Omega, afraid of hooting and nasty comments thrown his was, and was glad only for the fact that the game was taking place on his home turf and with Harry close by at all times. He knew his mum had come down to Manchester specially to see him play live and as his true self for the first time ever. 

That they had ensured such an extraordinary victory for the team had really fuelled Louis’ ego. Knowing that people knew now, that they had witnessed Louis, an _Omega_ , keeping up with and scoring goals against players that everyone and their mother had so long believed to be so much better, stronger, fitter and faster than Louis felt … well, fucking incredible, to say it bluntly.

He had impressed people, he understood later on, and inspired them, even. His story was broadcasted on TV and radio, newspapers and magazines featured him in their sports sections for days on end. He was some kind of sensation for a while, though he felt that that was taking it a step too far. He wasn't some exceptional talent, he was just really fucking good at what he loved doing: playing football. It was about time that the world realised that gender really didn't matter.

Looking back at those few weeks in which he had been so widely recognised by the public eye he knew he was lucky. The overall reception had been very positive, more so than he had ever dreamed it could be. People had been _accepting_ , of all things, and it made Louis’ heart soar.

Of course, the whole affair reassured him immensely. The university could throw some huge sticks and stones in his path still, but at some point Louis and Harry figured: would that even still make sense for them to do? Louis was the best publicity they could wish for. He stood for all the things young people ready to start uni cared about — equality, emancipation, strength, individuality, forward thinking, _a social revolution_. 

Louis was convinced that it was all that, more than Coach Collins’ keen words or his own, immaculately composed statement, that made the university decide eventually. 

+++

The deciding letter came on a Wednesady. 

Once again, Louis made Harry read it, late that night, with steaming cups of tea at hand and the lights dimmed. He wished he could do this on his own, but his hands were shaking and sweaty and he knew he didn't have to — there was not shame in having Harry help out, lend him strength he couldn't muster up at the moment. 

No matter how smoothly the last weeks had run, this letter still could destroy everything. Louis was so, so aware of that, as his eyes followed Harry’s fingers opening the emblemed envelope.

A whole stack of paper was stuffed inside. The first three pages were rambling on and on about which rules Louis had broken, which punishable offences he had committed, how he had endangered the whole university’s standing with his reckless abandon. As if they weren't all perfectly conscious and weary of that — Louis sure was! 

There was a copy of his statement next, then another statement given by Coach Collins which Louis hadn't realised existed, but which spoke of Louis with such high praise that it made him blush. Subsequent to that they found various assessments of university officials and even of some student representatives that had become involved in the case. Unsurprisingly, though Louis was not taking that for granted by any means, he had the support of most Omegas and Betas allowed to give an opinion on the matter. 

It took a whole other stack of paper until they finally stumbled upon the feared ruling. “With regard to recent developments,“ one of the last paragraphs started out, and both Louis and Harry were smart enough to read between the lines here. The university, in the end, refrained from expelling Louis and even allowed him to continue playing for the A-B team, but clearly only because anything else would result in bad press and a tarnished reputation. By keeping and supporting Louis, they cleverly present themselves as an institution that is forward thinking and open minded, a pillar of strength standing behind each and every student. 

Of course, they couldn't help themselves and had still fined Louis substantially for fraud. He figured he couldn't be all too mad about that, seeing as how much worse everything could have turned out, but he still had to swallow twice when he beheld the sum they demanded. 

And then, just like that, the enormous letter was over and done with. Louis, feeling suddenly exhausted, let the sheets he still held flutter to the ground and met Harry’s eyes, feeling indecipherable, odd. It was over. And, all things considered, they had _triumphed!_

Harry’s dimples were out full force as he beamed at Louis, discarding the papers he still held himself with a flick of the wrist to pull Louis close and into a fierce kiss, all hot breath and slick saliva.

“You made it,“ he mumbled against Louis’ half-open lips, barely comprehensible.

“We made it,“ Louis objected vehemently, his arms wound securely around Harry’s neck, not intending to let go anytime soon. “Couldn’t have done it without you. Never in a million years.“

“You could have.“ Harry’s fingers traced Louis cheekbones reverently. “I have a feeling that you can do everything once you set your mind on it, and succeed, too.“

“We’ll see,“ Louis whispered, leaning in for another kiss. He was smiling too hard for it to result in something dignified or pleasurable, but Harry, grinning just as broadly, most likely didn't mind.

Louis felt like flying, tethered to the ground only by Harry’s lips, and with Harry’s words still bouncing around his head, he thought that dreaming of a professional A-B league career maybe wasn't as impossible as all that. 

He seemed to be on a roll, after all.

+++


	16. EPILOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the very last time, welcome back!  
> I kept this epilogue rather short and a little suggestive, because that is what felt right for me to do. I hope you’ll like it, because once I had written it all down I realised it was one of my favourite parts of this story and I hope you will share that feeling. 
> 
> This fic wasn't supposed to end _this_ happily, to be honest. I mean, that’s just not realistic. But then I thought to myself: It’s fanfiction, I’m the author and I want a soppy, cheesy, all-too-perfect ending for Harry and Louis (because they deserve nothing less) and then it basically wrote itself and there was nothing I could.
> 
> Thanks again for the support of every single one of you — there were times I didn't think I could pull through with this one, but your comments and kudos and messages really made me realise how much I loved the idea, why I wrote the story in the first place and what do you know, here we are, at the end of all things. Thank you again, love you all!
> 
> Julia x

There was a microphone shoved into his face, and Louis had to fight the urge to glare down the reporter for getting all up in his business. Instead, he focused on keeping Nolan cuddled close and secure to his chest, shielded from the camera’s view and protected from the journalists who were getting progressively more aggressive each time Louis encountered them. There was a trend there. 

It wasn't hard to see why today, of all days, they wanted to talk to him, even though for once he was just as much an ordinary guy in the audience as the people all around. 

“Mr Tomlinson, Louis. Good afternoon, it’s great to see you again. Just a quick question, you don't mind, do you?“ A blonde lady had finally managed to get a word in edgewise in all the media chaos and things quieted down so the microphones stretched in his direction would be able to catch every word exchanged. “Can we expect to see you return to the professional football pitch soon? Is your being here a good sign? With your pregnancy obviously over now,“ here, the woman, towering at least a head over Louis in her heels, gestured to the bundle pressed to Louis’ chest, “so are you ready to jump right back in?“ 

The deafening sounds of the stadium crowd above and around them remained, thunderous, unstoppable cheering over the win the team had just brought home shaking the walls.

“Shouldn't you be asking me about the game? I’m sure that’s what your viewers actually care about right now,“ Louis said, dodging the question, and hunching in on himself, curling around his baby. If there was one thing he hadn't gotten used to, even after years of professionally playing football in the A-B premier league, it was the constant media attention. He didn't complain, knew it was a part of all this — his world —, something he used to feverishly wish for when he was twelve, fifteen, twenty years old. Now, though, he knew the reality of things and he didn't like it half as much as he thought he would. He kept his voice quiet as he spoke — the mics would pick his words up anyway, and Nolan had just fallen asleep a short while ago, snuggled up as he was. There was no need to disturb his peaceful baby dreams.

The reporter grinned, shark-like, and shrugged. “Of course, you're right. It was a rather sensational game. How did you like it, then? Any opinions on your husband’s performance?“ 

“Harry did a great job, but that’s hardly surprising. I think he proved once and for all that he deserves to play the attacking midfield position, from start to finish, in each and every game. I might be a little biased, but I think there’s no one who can hold a candle to him.“ With a small smile, Louis threw a furtive glance over his shoulder, but the pitch was barely visible from where he was standing now in the tunnel. He had been almost at the changing rooms, not wanting to get caught up in the after-win huddles and general noisiness of a significant win with Nolan, when he got intercepted by the reporters. Any moment now the players would be leaving the field, though, and Louis couldn't wait to see Harry and give him a thorough (child-friendly) victory snog. Turning back to the microphones and cameras, he continued. “Apart from that, well, the lads won, didn't they? Deservedly so, if the final score is anything at all to go by. I think our new goal-keeper did a fantastic job, especially considering this was his debut game in the league. Really, there is nothing I’d see a reason to complain about, although I’m sure Coach will find something to criticise.“ He chuckled quietly, hoping the media would take his joke for what it was and not twist his words around, as they had done once or twice before.

“It’s definitively a big win for the team, assuring them once more the prime position in the league table.“ The Alpha lady nodded along, then grinned again, casually pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. Louis tried not to be prejudiced against her — he knew firsthand how unfair that was, how small-minded, how getting judged unfairly held people back and kept them from developing to their full potential — but she seemed like the most stereotypical Alpha: pretty, bossy, sly and adamant of getting her will. Things Louis couldn't stand in a combination like that, but figured made her the perfect reporter. “Any chance you’ll still give us an answer to our initial question? I’m sure your fans would like to have an update on the state of things.“ 

Louis abstained from rolling his eyes, rather lowered his gaze to the top of his baby’s head, covered by a wooly hat, knitted in the team colours. “I want to come back, at some point, if my team will still have me after my absence. It will be hard, after such a long time-out, to get back into things, and I don't feel like pressuring myself at this point, because for now, I’m going to be a parent — full-time.“

The reporter opened her mouth, surely about to dig a little deeper, but Louis felt the commotion of an entire football team enter in the building behind him. A very familiar football team including his hot, sweaty and victorious husband. With a quick nod and a muttered “thank-you“ he turned away from the reporter, his eyes scanning the joyous faces of his own team-mates, Coach, trainers and co-trainers, medics and a dozen assistants, before falling on Harry — looking tired, but smiling broadly. 

He was more than sure that the media would be occupied elsewhere, the slew too much to handle even for the various TV, radio and newspaper teams around, so he didn't waste time before pulling Harry into a hug, careful of the precious cargo bundled up between them, and kissed him soundly on the mouth. “So proud of you,“ he muttered, breathing in Harry’s spicy, musky scent. “You did fabulous, if I say so myself!“

“Thanks, love,“ Harry replied, his dimples popping with the intensity of his smile, but he seemed absent-minded while replying. His eyes have darted from Louis’ face towards their son in a matter of seconds, the expression on his face turning incredibly soft and fond as he nuzzled one barely visible baby cheek for a second. “Couldn't have done it without the two of you cheering me on.“ 

Louis knew he must look dorky, what with beaming so hugely at such a clichéd declaration, but truthfully, he didn't care. Standing in the gloomy tunnel just beyond the football pitch, their team having just won and Harry one of the strongest players of the game, with their baby son strapped to Louis’ chest and Harry’s happiness radiating around them, there was truly nothing Louis felt the need to wish for. 

His hand flitted to the bitemark on his neck, not visible for anyone today since it was hidden under the collar of Louis’ jacket, but it didn't take Harry a second to read the subtle sign and pull the fabric aside to let his lips swiftly kiss upon the place where he had marked Louis over two years ago.

There was a time when Louis thought he could have it all, then believed to have lost it all, and then again a time when _all_ itself had been redefined in its entirety for him. Now, having the support and backing of his family, friends, trainers, team mates and basically a whole nation for his decision of pausing his rather successful professional career to start a family with the one and only love of his life, he didn't think there was much more he could want for. Having Harry and Nolan, here, by his side, in his arms, he realised that he experienced a form of bliss he didn't even think to wish for, but was lucky to get in such abundance.

+++

End.

**Author's Note:**

> My [tumblr](http://obviouslybecauselarry.tumblr.com), if anyone wants to talk, or ask, or shout. Also, you could reblog my [Ficpost](http://obviouslybecauselarry.tumblr.com/post/164418007416/i-want-you-so-much-but-i-hate-your-guts-harry) over there, if you feel like it!


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